Aspirations
by TheWriterOfTruth
Summary: Sherman Peabody, the most esteemed student attending Susan B. Anthony school, is graduating. Not only that, but he's also the valedictorian, an honour only provided to the most academically capable student of the entire grade. But what happens when his massive potential is at odds with his life goals? More importantly, how will his father react to this?
1. Chapter 1

A hazy white shard of sunlight manages to pierce through a window, between the blinds and the glass, landing on the floor of the penthouse bedroom. Feeling his smart watch buzz with a 9 AM alarm, a weary-eyed teen pushed himself into a sitting position, rubbing his face in an attempt to hasten the unclouding of his vision. After a short while, his eyes became adjusted to the now light-filled room. The floor was carpeted in cream white, with the walls coated in matte white, and as a result the light cast from the sun was dispersed through his room rather effectively, almost too much so at times.

_Well. Guess it's time for the big day, then_, he thought wordlessly to himself. Slipping himself out of bed and into his grey slippers, the boy meandered over to the blinded windows, looking down to his watch and initiating his room's morning routine system at the press of a button. Without delay, the blinds smoothly rolled into the ceiling, giving way to a million-dollar view, Central Park, New York. Manhattan, to be precise.

_Another cloudless day, no complaints there, _He thought. An opaque display flickered to life on the glass, displaying the forecast from 9 AM that day, through to 12 AM that night. Unfortunately, the deceptively clear sky did little to warm up the chilled air, despite it being the latter half of Spring. It also seemed that a thunderstorm would be due to arrive sometime after 6 PM.

Reminding himself to take his car to the event to avoid getting wet on the way home, the teen turned and walked into his personal bathroom. The lights turned on automatically, sensing his presence. It was a pretty standard bathroom. A toilet, a shower cubicle, a marble sink with stainless steel fittings, and a square mirror with a thin black frame outlining it. Every surface, metal, ceramic, porcelain, and glass were all pristine and cleaned to a sparkling shine. If one were to not know any better, it would be reasonable to liken it to a hotel bathroom.

A quick splash of water onto his face had proven to be an effective way of waking up fully for the rest of the day. Following this, he quickly glanced at his face in the mirror, deciding that he could get away with just one more day before he'd have to shave. He also noticed his hair, which was left in a messy, uncouth state, was resting partially over his eyes.

_Guess I might have time for an impromptu hair appointment, today_, He pondered. For a time, his father would take an insistence over his physical appearance, with his hair being no exception, however in recent years, he had begun to take more license. By birth he was a red-head through and through. While the appeal of having an uncommon genetic attribute had its charm for the first ten years of his life, a sense of self-awareness and a disdain for standing out saw him regularly taking steps to recolour his hair to a natural brown. Thankfully, the roots of his hair were not showing his natural copper tinge just yet, so he could check that off his to-do list for a while.

After taking a shower and getting dressed, the brunette padded out into the penthouse's mezzanine floor, looking out into the main lounge.

"Hey, Mr. Peabody, you home?" He called out in a habitually mild voice, knowing that shouting had been outlawed, for lack of a better word, while under his father's roof. Be it manners, or a consideration of his keen sense of hearing, the boy couldn't pinpoint a single distinctive reason.

Thankfully, his voice fell quite literally on deaf ears, as his words reverberated around the room. The apartment's main living space would be best described as an open floor-plan, with only the bedrooms, amenities such as bathrooms, the gym, and his father's lab being enclosed rooms. Supposedly, this fell under design philosophy, that a room with fewer walls would have the illusory effect of being larger. And, more pertinently, it meant that he could see that no one was home at that moment.

"Weird," he mumbled to himself. "He's rarely out of the house this early, on a week-day, even."

His curiosity was sated fortunately by a note that had been pinned to one of the two stainless steel refrigerators in the kitchen by a magnet. Heading down the stairs and into the kitchen, the teen's eyes focused on the cursive writing of the tacky fridge magnet.

'_Not all math puns are awful, just sum.'_, he cracked a small but strained smile at that, appreciating how much it reminded him of his father's particularly pedestrian sense of humour. Often times, he'd have to laugh and pretend that he understood half of the puns that were hurled his way on a daily basis through his formative years. But now, at 18, coming to understand the majority of his father's quips only further lessened his amusement. In its place now, was more of an ironic appreciation over how un-funny his father could be. Above all else, it was endearing by this point, and his fondness for his father only grew tenfold at this realisation.

Brushing aside his urge to reminisce, he tugged the slip of paper from underneath the magnet, turning around and leaning onto the large marble island, resting his elbows on the cool surface and reading the note. It was written in neat cursive, with every stroke of the pen performed just as elegantly as the last.

_Sherman,_

_Good morning and happy graduation day! I hope you slept well; today is a very special occasion in a boy's life and it only happens once. As such, I have undertaken some preparations to ensure that this day will live on in memory as one of the great defining moments of your life! I will not be back home until 3 PM sharp, though, I believe you have some matters of your own to tend to in that time. Last night's leftovers are in the fridge, but I have placed some money on the kitchen counter should you decide to eat out for lunch._

_Best regards,_

_Mr. Peabody_

Sherman lightly huffed through his nose. He would have to leave soon in order to prepare for tonight. Standing up straight and closing his eyes momentarily, he internally assessed what he would need to do today. Aside from getting a haircut, figuring out how to procure some drinks for a friend's house party, and ironing his uniform, his day would be rather uneventful. This meant that he'd have some free time today.

Sherman felt eager to leave the quiet apartment, so a light breakfast was in order, in the form of two slices of toast with eggs. Normally Mr. Peabody would be home to offer him a more lavish breakfast consisting of innumerable ingredients on the best of days, but he felt grateful for being able to cook for himself occasionally. Once he had finished cooking breakfast, he sat himself down at a stilted wooden chair next to the marble island and ate in peace while scrolling through his social media accounts.

Upon finishing his breakfast, the teen quickly completed his morning routine by brushing his teeth thoroughly and slipping on a black denim jacket. Swiping his car keys from a bowl beside the elevator doors, he gave himself one final pat-down to ensure that he had everything he needed for the day. Sure enough, he finally stepped into the elevator, pressing the ground floor button. As the elevator whirred into motion, he felt his phone buzz in his pocket. Assuming it was just another message from a school colleague, he decided to read it later.

The doors slid open to reveal a quaint little lobby. The walls were painted a faint yellow, with unremarkable paintings that depicted mundane subjects such as fruit, a streetlamp, a park, and a rustic coffee shop in western Europe. Behind a crescent-shaped desk sat a blonde-haired receptionist that could not be any older than 30. The whole composition of the lobby would strike anyone as odd, given the ostentatious architecture of the building, and the striking sight of the penthouse resting atop. However, the truth was that this particular lobby provided a façade for both Sherman and his father when leaving the building without having to pass through the impressive main entrance of Peabody Industries, the sole company operating within the complex, owned entirely of course by its namesake.

Sherman paced toward the exit when the voice of the receptionist caught him off guard.

"Good morning, Sherman." She chimed through a smile. The greeting was unexpected, as Sherman had never actually spoken to the woman before, typically leaving all conversation with building staff to his father.

"Uh, hi. A-and thanks, yeah, you too." He stuttered, still not used to the change of routine.

"Your dad left earlier, he said that today's your graduation. Just wanted to say congrats and I hope you do good in life!"

"Well in life." Sherman corrected. The receptionist raised a brow in confusion.

"What?" She questioned.

Sherman just shook his head, mostly to himself, and responded, "Nevermind, just a force of habit."

"So, Mr. Peabody taught me a new word today. He teaches me one new word every time he comes out here, he thinks everyone should be able to say that they've learned one new thing every day!" She brightly exclaimed. Sherman scratched his arm, looking through the glass exit door to his car parked in the 'reserved' spot.

"Oh, really? That's cool. What word did you learn this morning?" He feigned enthusiasm, if only to get going sooner.

"Regress, it's the act of leaving or exiting, like you are right now!" She grinned toothily. Sherman smirked slightly, her bubbly nature becoming less discomforting and more amusing.

"I think the word you're actually looking for is 'egress', not 'regress'. Regress means for something to reverse, or go back to a previous state. For example, the temptation to regress into a state of apathy regarding my studies, or what is colloquially termed as 'senioritis', was very great for me this year, but, had I allowed that to happen, I would not have passed my final exams. Does that make sense?"

The woman's smile faltered ever so slightly, trying to retain what he had just told her. "Yep, it makes a lot of sense, so egress and not regress, got it."

There was a brief moment of silence between the two. Soon after though, Sherman decided to apologise.

"Sorry, I'm being a smart-ass again. I do it all too often. You can probably tell where I got it from." His face fell slightly into a solemn expression, but quickly returned to his resting features. "Have a good day, ma'am."

Unlocking the door to his car and sitting inside, Sherman decided to warm up the air conditioner and check his phone's messages before leaving to ensure it wasn't an emergency. His eyes widened as he saw almost one hundred message notifications within his social media apps. He resigned himself to only reading the most recent one, sent merely 2 minutes ago, to avoid spending too much time on his phone.

_David: Hey-hey, Sher! Can't wait for your valedictorian speech tonight, I'll be in the audience cheering you on, haha._

Sherman's face softened as the concern faded. It was just his colleagues congratulating and wishing him good luck for tonight. Shutting the car door and turning back to his phone, he decided to reply.

_Sherman: Hey, thanks, Dave. Thank you so much for the support. I am a bit nervous about giving this speech, I won't lie._

_David: Don't stress yourself, you'll be fine. As long as you've rehearsed it, your memory will hold up. And everyone at school practically looks up to you, I'm pretty sure you can't do any wrong._

_Sherman: Don't say that, you know I don't like that kind of praise._

_David: Alright, alright, sorry. And also one last thing, I just wanna say that there's no bad blood between us over this, alright? I think you really deserved this, and I'm glad it went to you over everyone else._

Sherman nodded to himself in acknowledgement of this. Between the two students, there was an unspoken rivalry over who had the best academic ability. Every exam, every assignment, and every extra-curricular show of intelligence under the sun became a competition one way or another between the two. It was no secret that David had every intention of becoming valedictorian of the school for that year, and Sherman naturally rose to the challenge.

_Sherman: I appreciate that. And for what it's worth, these honours are pompous and don't equate for much in the real world. I'd be shocked to see any college turn you down. Take care, I'll see you tonight at the ceremony, and hopefully at the party later._

_David: Yeah haha hopefully, bring booze if you can, cya._

Not feeling particularly motivated to read the copious number of other messages he'd received that morning, he closed the app. Looking to the top of the display and seeing that it was now 10 AM, he decided that it'd be best if he finally made his way over to the hairdresser's. Sliding his phone into his pocket, Sherman finally was able to start up the car and pull out of the private garage into the busy roads of New York City. Turning on the radio to a pop station, he allowed himself to relax as he drove through the busy traffic, on his way to the hairdresser.

About 25 minutes of driving later, he arrived at the usual spot where he'd get his hair cut. It was a fair distance from home, taking him out of the high rise districts and into a lower-market area. He happened to stumble across this particular hairdresser last year after his last barber did a botch job of his haircut. Stuffing his keys and wallet into his jacket pockets, he slid out of his seat and out into the chilled morning air. The building had seen better days. It was your typical New York architecture, a brown-bricked construction with a few cracked and boarded-up windows. The marquee sign that read 'Barber Shop' had been bleached by the sun for as long as he could remember.

However, the exterior was deceiving, as the inside of the place was something to behold. A checkered floor, wooden walls, vintage paintings and various pictures of historical figures adorning the walls all came together to form a tapestry of retrospective beauty. The warm atmosphere of the place alone justified half of Sherman's reasoning to go to this place rather than somewhere closer. His eyes lit up somewhat as he reached for the door and pulled it open. And to his satisfaction, it creaked slightly as it turned on its hinge; a great audible indicator of what lay behind it.

"Ah, Sherman. Come stai?" A middle-aged Italian man stepped out from a backroom door upon hearing his arrival.

"Sto bene grazie, Roberto. I just need a trim for tonight, is that okay?" Sherman queried.

"You should have called first, look! We are so busy! This is very busy day!" The man theatrically gestured around the shop, accentuating the fact that there had been no business on this particular morning.

"It's only," Sherman shook his wrist to wake up his smart watch "Ten-thirty in the morning, to be fair. And on a weekday no less. Give it some time."

"It is no matter, I have all the time in the world for you and your company, Sherman." Roberto grinned, waving a hand at a chair. "Now, come, sit and I will give you a haircut."

Slumping into the red cushioned chair, Sherman took his glasses off and set them aside on a nearby table, watching as Roberto made his way over to him.

"So, where's Marco?" he inquired.

"He is sick again. I tell him to get rest all the time, but he still stay up late playing those video games. I hear him late into the morning, always up until sunrise. Sleep is good for immune system, yes?"

"I guess so. The body produces a protein called cytokines that fight inflammation and infections while sleeping. So I suppose your son's sickness could be tied to a lack of sleep." Sherman shrugged. "Wish I knew more, but biology was never my strong suit."

"But you are top of the school, no? You are good at many things, like your father." Roberto responded.

"Well… I dunno. I wouldn't go as far as to say I'm completely like my father. He's very learned, and probably would know a lot more about it than I do. A lot of what I know, I kind of absorbed from being around him I guess."

"But you are very smart, which is why you are top of the school. And why you care for other people." The Italian smiled to Sherman through the mirror. He politely smiled back, deciding to leave the conversational path at that.

"You are giving speech tonight for all students, correct? I think you will be a good giver of the speech. A good… speecher." Roberto looked up briefly, trying to find the correct words. "Sorry, my son still try to help me learn full English, but I still have some things to learn."

Sherman chuckled faintly at that. "That's okay, Roberto, you're doing far better than you were this time last year."

The two talked for the remainder of the haircut, discussing topics that ranged between current events, historical factoids and misconceptions, and the occasional unsavoury customers that Roberto had to deal with from time to time. While Sherman felt slightly irked by Roberto's eagerness to test his knowledge, the conversation was a refreshing ritual for him, as it felt more casual in nature than most he'd have on any other day of the week.

"…It's a common misconception, but pasta wasn't actually introduced to Italy by Marco Polo. In fact, it has been said that, almost 600 years prior to his birth, it was introduced by Arabs, during a conquest of Sicily." Sherman rattled on about yet another piece of trivia he had learned at some point during his rigorous history lessons with his father. Whether he had learned it 10 years ago or just last month, he couldn't deduce.

"That is interesting. I will tell this to Marco when he wakes." Roberto incredulously remarked. Sherman smirked at his reaction. Checking his watch and seeing that it was now 11:10, he realised that he'd better get going if he were to finish preparing for the night.

"Have you finished the trim yet?" Sherman asked. This earned an eyebrow raise from Roberto.

"Sherman, I have finished nearly ten minutes now. You did not notice this?" He chortled.

"Oh, I'm sorry, I must have zoned out for a bit there. Tends to happen when I'm talking about history." He started, as he stretched himself out of the chair, letting his joints pop. Once he reached the cash register, he pulled out his wallet. "So, how much do I owe you?"

"Fifteen dollars." He replied with a smile. Sherman fished around in his wallet, pulling out a fifty dollar bill.

"Here, you need it more than I do." Sherman softly asserted. Roberto's face faltered slightly, wanting to refuse the generous tip, but before he could, he was cut off.

"You know I'm good for it. And I've been coming here for so long, I think it's time I show some more appreciation. Tell your son I said hi." With that, Roberto relented and took the dollar bill and slipped it into the till.

"Good luck for tonight, Sherman. You are a good man. Very good man." Roberto beamed. He watched on as Sherman wordlessly turned and walked out of the store.

As he approached the car, he felt another buzz in his pocket. Pulling the phone out and opening his messaging app, he saw it was a message from another school colleague.

_Josh: Yoooooo duuuuude I know you got nuclear physics homework n shiz at home w your dad tonight probably but theres a sesh on tonight at zacks, and its only fair that we gotta pour one out for you big man?_

_Sherman: Yes, I know there's a party tonight at Zack's, I was already told. I'll have to see if I can go first, but I should be able to. Don't know if I can get alcohol though._

_Josh: Yeahhh its fine man dont worry, we got mad drink going on over there, should be enough to get everyone buzzed. _

_Sherman: Like I said, I'll have to see first, but I'm hoping I can go._

_Josh: Sure just dont be a square you know? Like if I were you id be pretty sick of asking to do everything all the time. Honestly just sneak over here if you gotta HAHA._

Sherman grimaced somewhat at the sight of Josh's typing etiquette. It was one of several reasons why he preferred verbal communication where possible. However, that conversation jogged his memory, and he decided to message one more person before hitting the road. Leaning against a wall, he pulled up his chat with Penny.

_Sherman: Hey, was just wondering if you're going to Zack's party tonight?_

_Penny: Yeah, probably. You?_

_Sherman: Yeah, see you there._

With an air of finality, he pushed himself away from the wall with his foot, turning to his car. What he wasn't expecting to see, was a group of three teenagers leaning against his car, laughing amongst themselves and smirking to eachother.

"Hey, that's my car, not a park bench." He spoke, trying to lace his sentence with as much snark as possible.

"Nice car, Sherman. Did your rich daddy buy it for you with his little chequebook?" Spat one of the teens. Sherman recognised that voice immediately, realising that the three perpetrators were students of his school.

"Yes, but it's-" Sherman began to retort.

"Oh it's last year's model, huh? Not good enough for you? Typical rich boy, nothing's ever good enough for you." Another kid taunted. Sherman's eyebrows furrowed further, becoming increasingly aggravated by the snide comments.

"You know what I heard?" The third teenager began, "I heard that his dog dad paid off the school so he'd keep his grade average up. And what's the bet that he'll be paying his way into Harvard? Or Yale? Or one of those other lame ass schools. I reckon very likely."

"I worked hard to get to this point, unlike you. And If I'm not mistaken, _Chris_, you dropped out in the tenth grade because you couldn't even bring yourself to care about your future. And look where that got you." Sherman shot back. He felt a rush of adrenaline from saying such a thing. He had been raised to never stoop to the level of a petty aggressor, but with his father's honour and his own on the line, he had to speak up.

"Well, well, well. The true side of you is finally revealed. You're every bit as proud as I thought you were. I haven't got time for you. Let's go, boys." The delinquent slid off the car bonnet, but not before inhaling deeply and spitting as loudly as possible onto the windscreen. "See you at graduation, Lassie."

Sherman winced at the nickname. A lot of insults directed at him over the course of high school were pertaining to the fact that his father was a dog, and by flawed logical association, he must be a dog too. Sighing to himself, he decided to push the altercation to the back of his mind and not allow it to spoil his day. The car beeped as he unlocked it remotely, but before he could open the door, he heard the door to the barber shop open behind him. It was Roberto, rushing over to apologise profusely.

"Sherman! I am sorry for this. Those boys have been such a…" He paused, trying to find a word.

"A nuisance?" Sherman offered.

"Yes, I have seen them here many times before, and they make all of us very… upset. I will help you clean this." He leaned over the window, and began wiping the saliva from the windshield with a red handkerchief.

"Thank you, Roberto, but that's not necessary. I can just use the windscreen wipers." Sherman reasoned.

Roberto shook his head in disbelief and began muttering to himself. "You very good man. You do not deserve this."

After finally exchanging their second farewell, Sherman climbed into the car, starting the engine and pulling out of the parking lot with a bit more haste than he'd like to admit. Glancing over to the car's digital clock, he clenched the steering wheel, whitening his knuckles in the process.

"Twelve o'clock. I took nearly two hours to get a haircut. That's a new record for time wasting." He mumbled to himself, turning back onto the main road. He concluded that he'd had enough excitement for one day, and was ready to go home and do some chores before tonight.

His peaceful drive home was suddenly interrupted yet again by his phone. This time, however, it was a call rather than a message.

"No rest for the wicked, huh." He pouted, reluctantly pressing the hands-free button on the steering wheel. He inwardly cursed upon realising it was yet another one of his school colleagues.

'_I sure am popular today,'_ He thought to himself. _'I don't even remember half of these people'_

"Hey, Sherman!" A voice virtually shouted through the car's speakers. "So Tim says he saw you in your car just now, and we were about to go to Sushi O' Clock for lunch if you wanna hang one last time? For old times' sake? Also we need a ride, so…"

"Hang on, hang on, what do you mean by 'old times' sake'? When have we ever hung out?" Sherman exasperatedly interjected.

"Uh, first of all, wow I'm offended, and secondly, I sat next to you in geometry class and you were giving me all of your answers."

"That doesn't sound like me, I think you're thinking of someone else in that class-"

"No, no, it was definitely you cos I was getting all these really good grades back!" She exclaimed, almost mockingly.

"Okay, well I'm sorry, but I've got lunch at home and I still have to prepare for tonight, so I'll have to say no to that proposition."

"The what?"

"Goodbye." Sherman said bluntly as he pressed a button, ending the call. He decided to set his phone to silent once he reached the next traffic light. At this rate, he determined that he'd be better off without distractions.

Arriving back home was an odd relief, and stepping out of the elevator to the penthouse's excellent heating system only further soothed Sherman's mild irritation regarding the past two hours. A quick sweep of the apartment told Sherman that Mr. Peabody had yet to return home. He'd expected as much, since the note he had left stated that he'd return by three o'clock in the afternoon, and when he gave any measurement of time, he'd see to it that it is fulfilled with as little a margin of error as possible.

In other words, he'd be home at three o'clock.


	2. Chapter 2

Sherman relished in a change of pace, as his afternoon replaced the cacophony of distractions from that morning with the low droning of the television in the loungeroom. He had changed the channel to the International News Network, and turned the volume down to a dull level, deciding that he'd merely need it for background noise while he finished preparing. Stepping over to a multi-purpose storage unit (another one of his father's many inventions), he selected the ironing board from the 'Miscellaneous' section of a display. Sure enough, a panel on the wall slid open, revealing the item in question.

He decided to slide the ironing board to face the TV while he worked on ironing his uniform blazer and pants. As he waited for the iron to heat up, he focused to the news story that had been running at that moment. To his mild dismay, it was yet another story focusing on foreign relations, in which trade tariffs were in negotiation to discourage exporting from China to the United States. Normally, he wouldn't care much for news stories, but his father's advocacy for an increased awareness of other nations meant that the occasional night would be spent conversing in front of the TV about what had been reported on in places such as Iceland, Greece, Norway, Cuba, among others. Thankfully, at his behest, Mr. Peabody would sometimes relent and opt to instead read the news digitally in silence at the end of the day, often accompanied with a hot herbal tea.

Realising that the iron had well and truly heated up, he began to smooth out the creases in his blazer vest, ironing in long strokes to not risk any burnt threads.

His mind wandered from the news, as his eyes trailed down to the task at hand. He absent-mindedly glanced to the heavily decorated article. Several neatly stitched fabric patches lined along the breast pocket, listing off various accolades and leadership positions which had been awarded to him during his final three years of schooling at Susan B. Anthony school. _'Swimming Team Captain', 'School Body Representative', 'Language Leader', 'Science Leader', _etcetera, etcetera. Frankly, it felt odd to him; walking around the school advertising his laurels, and as a result, he had avoided wearing his blazer as often as possible. Unfortunately, his peers and teachers would pull him aside in the halls and ask why he wasn't wearing it at certain intervals.

Tonight, Sherman reasoned, was an exception, and in order to appropriately represent the student body and present his speech, he would need to look the part. Well, that and the fact that it was mandated by the principal for all students wear a full uniform on the night.

Sherman's solitude was broken at the chime of the elevator approaching the penthouse floor. He checked his watch to confirm that it was in fact 3 PM, give or take mere seconds.

"Ah, good afternoon, Sherman!" A smooth, baritone voice rang out into the room, as soft footsteps padded closer. "I trust that you've prepared for the graduation ceremony?"

Sherman rolled his eyes to himself subtly in amusement. "You got here 20 minutes ago and were waiting in the lobby for 3 PM weren't you?"

"A man is only as good as his word, Sherman. A promise is a promise, and I will always see it through." He chimed in response.

"So that's a yes, then?" Sherman turned his head slightly to acknowledge the small furry figure strolling into the kitchen.

"Any excuse to speak to the receptionist is a good one, my boy. She wishes you good fortune for tonight's speech."

Sherman turned back to the ironing board, dispersing the final crease in his pants. Setting the iron aside and turning it off, he made his way into the kitchen to speak directly to his father. "Yeah, I know. She spoke directly with me today. Told me about your little word-a-day tradition." He grinned.

"You know I cannot turn down an opportunity to teach, it's in my blood. Did I ever tell you about the time I attended a seminar at Harvard on magnetohydronamics as a guest speaker? They had asked me beforehand to keep it 'concise', but by the time I had finished speaking, the-"

"Mr. Peabody." Sherman interjected, "As much as I love hearing your stories about ivy league institutions, I have to practise my speech one more time before we go, just to be sure I have it memorised." With that, he turned to leave the kitchen.

"Oh… Very well, then. Have you tried utilising mnemonic devices to help you retain each point of your address?" Peabody inquired.

"Yes," Sherman murmured back, turning around upon seeing that he would be asked several follow up questions. "I have used the link method, and I wrote down each topic on flash cards. Happy?" He raised his eyebrows in question.

"Did you use the Roman Room technique?" Peabody narrowed his eyes.

"Did I use the- what even is that?" Sherman threw his hands up incredulously. "No, I did not use the 'Roman Room' technique," His use of air-quotes for emphasis drove home his point.

"To think that I have not taught you this technique before." His furry eyebrows furrowed. Reaching for a large saucepan from a nearby cupboard, he began to elaborate. "Sherman, the Roman Room technique is an ancient and very effective form of memorisation. It disregards the common technique of associating items with information, instead utilising one's use of imagination to create a space populated by relevant objects pertaining to the subject at hand." Peabody animatedly waved his paws around as he spoke. It was both an admirable trait that exuded more confidence and credibility, but also a pet peeve of Sherman's at times. "I suppose you could say that such an effective method of memorisation is just to hard to 'object' to!" He flashed a cheesy grin to his son.

"I appreciate the insight, but I think I've used enough techniques to tide me over." Sherman nodded decisively, turning back around and running up the stairs to the mezzanine floor. Mr. Peabody poked his head from between the opening in the kitchen, calling out to Sherman in a somewhat raised voice.

"Would you like to practice your speech with me? I could give you some advice, perhaps a few notations for last-minute edits?"

"Thanks d-, uh, Mr. Peabody, but I think I can manage fine. I'll let the speech be a surprise for tonight. That way, you'll enjoy it more." Sherman called back, stepping into his room and closing the door. Once it had clicked shut, he let out a small sigh, shaking his head.

"I appreciate his help, but I think he can trust me to write my own speech." He mumbled under his breath. Slinging a laptop from a nearby desk under his arm, Sherman bounced onto his unmade bed, opening the lid.

The screen flickered to life, showing the last thing that he'd opened, a writing program with a full speech prepared for that night spanning 4 pages. Sherman smiled lightly to himself, feeling a sense of pride in the effort that he had put into writing it. A full waste paper basket beside his desk crammed with dozens of scrapped hand-written speech outlines bore an indication of that. Although he knew that typing his speech ultimately took the least amount of time, he had gained a habit of hand-writing notes and drafts on paper, courtesy of his father.

Turning his gaze back to the screen, he began to recite the speech one final time.

Meanwhile in the kitchen, Mr. Peabody was hard at work crafting a special dinner to reward Sherman's accomplishment. Humming to himself as he stirred the contents of the saucepan, his mind began to reminisce Sherman's past few years of schooling.

"I cannot believe it is already time for my dear Sherman to initiate the next stage of his life." He murmured to himself in misbelief. "Although I have undoubtedly prepared him for any and all academic challenges that may come his way, I still have my worries for that boy's future. I can only hope that he heeds my advice and verifies my trust in him as a parent." He grimaced faintly at the prospect. He peered over to a nearby calendar that had been stuck to the pantry door, with the current month displaying an artist's depiction of Leonardo da Vinci.

"What do you think, my nimble-minded friend? Am I doing right by Sherman? He won't even show me his valedictory speech. Have I lost his trust somehow?" The literate dog asked in vain to the caricature, feeling a sense of guilt in feebly attempting to divert any responsibility of having to answer his own questions of doubt.

"I know I shouldn't worry. I have offered him only the best of opportunities to better himself as an individual, as a scholar, and as a leading figure of his social circle. But I cannot quite shake the feeling that I am losing him, be it literally or figuratively…" He trailed off. "There has to be something amiss. Perhaps he is not telling me something."

Realising that the saucepan had begun to simmer, Peabody hastily grabbed a wooden spoon and resumed stirring. He decided that he'd investigate further later. Inhaling deeply through his nose, he took in the wondrous scent of the concoction. A tomato and mushroom risotto with farro grains. Both healthy, and delicious. He smiled in pride of his latest culinary creation.

Pressing a button on a nearby intercom broadcast his voice directly into Sherman's room. "Sherman, I would advise against changing into your uniform prior to dinner. It'd be best if you waited until after to do so."

Sherman jumped slightly at the sudden interruption of his practise. His shoulders slumped in moderate irritation. Raising his smart watch to his mouth and pressing a 'respond' button, he began to reply.

"I know, I just ironed it. Of course, I wasn't going to get changed now." He rolled his eyes. "Anything else you wanted to tell me?"

"Just a query, did you eat any lunch today?" His concerned tone carried through the subtly compressed transmission.

"Yes, I had the leftover vegetarian chilli from last night." He replied.

"Then what did you do with the money I had left out this morning?" Peabody questioned further.

"I gave it to Roberto as a tip, why?" Sherman tensed slightly in concern.

"Your hairdresser? I would like to see that place for myself one day. Are you sure that it was necessary for you to tip so… generously?"

"Why not? It's not like we're in financial turmoil or anything. I just wanted to show my appreciation, I have been going there for ages." Sherman shrugged to himself. "If you don't like me doing that, I can stop."

"Ah, not to worry. I merely wanted to know what you had done with it. That was a very admirable thing to do, Sherman." Mr. Peabody's tone of approval quelled Sherman's anxiousness. "Though, I hope you do realise that I can provide you with more money should you require it for food."

"Lunch doesn't cost 50 dollars. And we had perfectly good food here, aren't you the one always talking about environmental thinking and food wastage? It's fine, really." Sherman furrowed his eyebrows.

"Very well." His voice crackled out as he released the intercom button. Without delay, he returned to preparing dinner. He estimated that the risotto would be ready shortly, allowing for them to eat dinner somewhat early.

A few short minutes passed before Sherman showed his face back in the kitchen, sitting down on a table in front of the island, interlacing his fingers and resting his hands on the marble countertop, internally working himself up to ask a question.

"What is it, Sherman?" Peabody broke his son's concentration by acknowledging his uncharacteristic silence. With that, the teenager decided to dive into the matter.

"So, there's this party tonight, after graduation…" He began, trying to gauge a reaction in order to direct his course of conversation. When he saw that Peabody's furred facial features did not display an ounce of change, he decided to continue.

"…It's at Zack's house, the guy that did that really great Chuck Berry cover at the musical showcase charity night last year. Remember him?" He tried to ease into a casual conversation to conceal his ultimate goal.

"I have heard better, and so have you, but go on." His father playfully retorted.

"Well, yeah, he's hosting a social thing and it'll be really chilled out, like it'll just be pretty much everyone graduating this year at his house and meeting up before we part ways." He inwardly cringed at his suddenly casual demeanour. He could thank his school friends for that. Hopefully his father didn't notice.

"Well now, that didn't sound like a sentence that could come out of someone of your stature. When we speak to one another, we conduct ourselves as articulately and clearly as possible to avoid confusion when we converse. Is that correct?" Sherman could tell that his father was just sprinkling that sentence in embellishments to mock him.

"I'm a teenager. This is how we all talk. Do you really expect me to cram everything I say with confusing nomenclature and unnecessarily long synonyms? Half the time I don't even know what I'm saying. If I said half the things you say, my friends would probably disown me, Mr. Peabody." Sherman exasperatedly countered.

"Now, now, Sherman. Let's not get carried away here with petty remarks. I myself am as much an avid supporter for colloquialisms and colourful vernacular as the next dog, but I do believe that by now you should know better than to waste your perfectly sufficient vocabulary for the sake of mirroring others." Peabody had finished cooking by this point, turning the stove off and turning his undivided attention to his son.

"It's my knowledge, I'll use it however I please." rebutted Sherman. He paused for a brief moment to calm himself. He then continued to talk in a subdued tone. "Anyway, here is what I meant to say. A colleague from school has invited me to attend a social gathering at his house. May I go?" He waved his hands around, holding his hands in an 'ok' sign as he waved them to signify his reworded phrasing.

"No." Peabody bluntly replied.

"What? Why?" Sherman's face quickly fell into a frown, demanding a reason.

"I was not born yesterday. I know that if I were to allow you to go, you would fall under the influence of… of unsavoury types. No doubt there will be underage drinking, smoking, and consumption of illegal substances. Furthermore, I made plans for tomorrow, and I cannot afford to have you staying awake beyond midnight and sleeping well into the morning." He snipped.

"Seriously? You really think that I would take part in any of that? Everyone I know is going, it's not like I won't be safe. All my friends will be there, even Penny's parents are letting her go!"

"Well then I severely question the responsibility of Penny's parents. It will take more than the actions of your peers to sway my decision. You'll simply have to apologise and say that you have other plans." He shook his head in disapproval.

"What happened to you? You used to be so cool, encouraging me to be more social, and make more friends. Now it seems like you're trying to sabotage all that!" Sherman's voice raised angrily.

Peabody raised his voice to match Sherman's tone, albeit with a tinge of finality. "Whether or not I am 'Less cool' now is irrelevant. Perhaps in the past I would have agreed to letting you partake in this pointless social drinking event, with great reluctance mind you, but now I am putting my paw down and saying no! You are an adult now and I won't have you risking everything you've worked so hard for."

"Which one is it, then? Am I still a child who can't take care of himself, or an adult who should be spending his time studying and show-ponying just to fuel his superiority complex? Or am I thinking of someone else I know, perhaps?" Sherman growled back. Realising what he had just said, his face contorted into outward guilt. Forcefully directing his eyes back to his father, he tried to retract his statement.

"M-Mr. Peabody, I-" He began, but stopped when his father raised a paw to quieten him.

"I do not want to mull over the implications of what you have said to me right now," Peabody began, speaking in a hushed voice. "Dinner is ready, and we will eat in silence and enjoy your valedictory ceremony. Is that clear?" He hardened his stare at Sherman, expecting a response. Receiving a mere nod from him, he concluded that his point had been made.

After wordlessly setting the dinner table with plates and glasses of water, Sherman took a seat, awaiting Mr. Peabody's return with the food. Feeling the tension emanating from their argument that had taken place minutes prior, he clenched his fists in nervousness, dreading having to eat dinner with his father. Sure enough, he emerged from the kitchen carrying a large serving pot of risotto. The food smelled wonderful, but unfortunately it did little to recover Sherman's soured mood. Once his father had finished placing all the appropriate serving utensils down and garnishing the two bowls of risotto, he took a seat on the opposite end of the table, rather than next to Sherman as he normally would. Reaching for their respective bowls and placing them down before them, the pair proceeded to sit silently in the room, not touching their food. Sherman had never quite grasped the concept of silence being 'loud' before, but that night had provided him with a burning example.

After almost a minute of silently stewing in their emotions, Peabody decided to break the silence. "I'm sorry for raising my voice at you Sherman. I have spoiled a very important night for you. If you wish to attend the after-party, I won't stop you. Just know that my disapproval only formed from a place of regard for you."

Breathing deeply, Sherman forgave his father. "It- it's okay, dad. I understand your concern, but I want you to know that I really value being able to make decisions for myself. If it makes you uncomfortable though, I won't go to the party tonight." He noted his father shift slightly in his chair at the mention of the word 'dad', knowing that he typically avoided using it by his request, but inwardly reasoned to himself that it felt appropriate to say so.

With the conflict resolved, the father and son picked up their forks and began to eat.


	3. Chapter 3

Fiddling with his red bowtie, Peabody anxiously eyeballed the clock hanging on his bedroom wall.

"Sherman?" He leaned his head through the doorway of his room, "Are you ready? We'd best be going if you are to greet your colleagues before the ceremony."

Straightening his posture in front of the mirror and smoothing down the uniform with his flat palms, the teen responded; "Yes, Mr. Peabody, just a second.". Turning around and reaching for his phone, which had been charging on the nightstand, he felt satisfied that his uniform looked neat enough. Leaving his room and tossing his car keys playfully into the air and catching them with one hand earned him a raised eyebrow from the canid.

"Careful, Sherman, you might crease your uniform." Peabody remarked. "Now, I believe it is going to rain tonight, so we'd best be taking your car."

"Way ahead of you Mister P." Sherman said, shaking his keys over his shoulder as he passed Peabody. His father glowered at the nick-name, but decided to let it slide. "Oh, by the way, you'll have to clear a space when you get in. I forgot to throw out all my iced coffee bottles, so they sort of collected over time." He felt a grin tugging at his cheeks as he said that, knowing how Mr. Peabody would react.

"I do not care much for jokes regarding your hygiene, Sherman. I am already aware of what you are capable of, if your record of cleanliness is anything to go by." His father retorted.

"My record? My record? Please, I'm always cleaning up after myself, I bet you're talking about something I did like 15 years ago when I couldn't even think for myself." Sherman rolled his eyes.

"And yet," Peabody remarked, "to this day I am not fully certain if you are capable of thinking for yourself.". Getting the response he was hoping for, in the form of a feigned expression of shock from his son, he smirked to himself. The pair made their way down the stairs and into the elevator, turning off the lights and activating the penthouse's security systems in one fell swoop at the touch of a button. Once they'd arrived at the ground floor lobby and hastily made their way to the private parking outside, Sherman resumed his teasing.

"Sorry for the smell, you can probably imagine what happens when you leave about three dozen bottles of iced coffee sitting in a car for a year." He snickered.

"Oh, stop it, Sherman. You already know my stance regarding caffeinated, processed drinks." He shook his head in disapproval. Circling around the car to enter via the passenger door and pulling it open, he felt slightly relieved that the car was in fact in good keeping.

"You totally thought I'd trashed the car, didn't you, Mr. Peabody?" Said Sherman between suppressed laughter. Stooping down into the driver's seat and shutting the door, he turned to stare his father directly in the face. "I thought you knew me better than that!" He said, with a faux tone of dejection.

"Now, you are just milking it, Sherman." Peabody leaned back into his seat, crossing his arms and huffing, turning his head to gaze out the window. It wasn't until Sherman had reversed out of the parking garage and into the moonlit city streets that he realised what his father had just done.

"Wait! Did you just use another pun on me?" His eyes widened with realisation.

"Maybe." Peabody's fake pout morphed into a sly smile, trying not to chuckle at his son's comedic timing.

"I don't believe you. Two puns in one day!" Sherman raised a free hand from the steering wheel to extend two fingers. "I thought we'd agreed to work on limiting your pun usage."

Peabody scoffed at that. "My 'pun usage'? Oh, spare me, when would I ever make such an outlandish promise?". It was true, and Sherman knew it, he would never make a promise like that. Sherman covered his mouth with one hand, trying to stop himself from laughing. Once he'd felt the wave of hilarity drift away, he returned it back to the steering wheel, continuing the drive in comfortable silence.

"For the record, you've totally spoiled my night." Sherman sarcastically informed his father. "Now I have to give my speech with your dumb little quip sitting in the back of my mind. I hope you're happy!" He felt himself involuntarily grinning again, trying to hold back more laughter.

"Oh, I am more than happy, Sherman." Peabody beamed. "I am ecstatic, in fact."

"You're the worst." Sherman clenched his teeth, holding back chuckles. Turning off the road and into the rear parking lot of the school, he scanned the lot with his eyes, trying to find a reasonable place to park. Peabody's fuzzy arm shot out in front of his view momentarily, nearly breaking his concentration.

"Take that space over there, it'll allow us the most possible space to reverse upon leaving and minimise the risk of congestion." He reasoned. Sherman nodded, swiftly turning into the space, and turning the engine off once he'd comfortably determined that he wouldn't need to straighten his parking job.

"It's awfully busy, don't you reckon?" Sherman remarked, as the father and son duo stepped out into the chilly night-time air.

"I do not 'reckon', I 'surmise'. And I surmise that the increased attendance may be in relation to your renown, as an exemplary student." Peabody responded.

"Exemplary student," Sherman mumbled to himself, "Like some random people off the street would want to come and watch me talk for ten minutes."

"I heard that, Sherman." Peabody chided. "Keep this up, and I may have to disown you." He joked.

Sherman walked backwards while facing his father. "You wouldn't leave a poor, defenceless child all alone in the cold, would you? Oh, the humanity!" He bellowed, shaking his fists to the sky in mock horror.

"Please, get this out of your system as best you can right now so that you don't subject an entire room of parents, teachers, and students to your absurd antics." beseeched Peabody.

Sherman lowered his hands back to his sides, returning to Mr. Peabody's side and continuing his stride towards the school's auditorium, hands in his pockets. "Oh, the hu-doggity." He muttered to himself humorously.

"Remind me why we are here again, Sherman?" Peabody inquired jocularly. Putting on an excessively confused face, the teen scratched his head, leering to his father.

"I dunno, you'll have to jog my memory."

"Oy vey." Peabody grumbled to himself.

Noticing two laminated signs taped to the outer wall of the auditorium, Sherman slowed to a stop, waiting for his father's shorter legs to catch up to him. "Guests to the left, students to the right," He pointed out. "Guess this is where we part ways, eh, Mister P?"

"You know how I feel about your unusual monikers. At the very least, can I join you briefly to check with the school faculty and ensure that your stage cues are correct?" Peabody was interrupted when Sherman raised a hand in defiance.

"Where I'm going, you can't follow. What I've got to do, you can't be any part of. I'm no good at being noble, but it doesn't take much to see that the problems of two little people don't amount to a hill of beans in this crazy wor-"

"Your obsession with classic Hollywood film quotes will be the death of me, my dear Sherman. Very well, if you insist that everything will go as planned, then I shall take my seat." Peabody clapped his paws together in finality.

"Actually, I hope it doesn't go as planned, maybe then I'll have something to remember tonight by." Sherman quipped. "You better get going, the front rows are probably going to fill very quickly." He gave one final half-wave-half-salute gesture to his father, before disappearing behind the soundproof door.

Peabody forced his buzzing nerves to still, as he walked briskly to the opposite door.

Sherman's arrival into the large backstage area was met with little fanfare, to his relief. Aside from a few fellow students that absent-mindedly called out sentiments of congratulations to him, he was largely ignored. It made sense, as the hustle and bustle of hundreds of graduating students all wishing one another farewell had made it hard to concentrate on any particular individual. Spotting Penny Peterson, one of Sherman's closest and oldest friends from school, he decided to make his way over to greet her.

A huge grin graced Penny's face as her eyes met with Sherman's. "There's the man of the hour! We were all waiting for you, Sherman!" She exclaimed.

Sherman raised his eyebrows in surprise. "We? People were waiting for me to get here?" He looked around the room in a comedic show of disbelief.

"Funny as always, Sherman." Penny rolled her eyes. "If being valedictorian does this to your ego, I'd hate to see you win a Nobel Prize." She scoffed. "Speaking of, have you told your dad yet?"

"Told my dad about what?" Sherman shrugged quizzically.

"About your post-grad plans, Sherm. I thought you said you'd tell him before tonight?" She looked at him incredulously.

"Oh, right… Can we please not talk about this right now?" Sherman spoke in a strained tone. "I haven't spoken to him about it yet, tonight wasn't a good night for that, he was in a weird mood again."

"A weird mood? What does that even mean?" Penny asked, mindfully looking down at her watch, noting that the ceremony would begin in ten minutes.

"You know how he gets, he has these sporadic moments where he's super up-tight about everything, telling me what to do and how to talk." His voice lowered, trying to avoid letting the other students surrounding them eavesdrop.

"He just wants to see you be the best you can be. Most kids would kill for that kind of parenting. And last time I checked, your dad couldn't get any more unusual." Penny tried to reason optimistically, but Sherman shook his head.

"No, Penny. He's been worse lately. And I can tell because I still get glimpses of the dad I used to know, the one that was funny, the one that let me do whatever I wanted to do. He's changed, I just know he has. He won't even let me go to the party later!" Sherman wringed his hands worriedly.

"That sounds like pretty typical parent behaviour to me, Sherman. Did it cross your mind at any point that maybe this is all in your head? Maybe he hasn't changed, and you're just seeing him differently now that you're a little older?" Penny offered. Seeing Sherman shake his head, a downtrodden expression on his face, she decided not to wait for an answer. "Look, how is he right now, as in right before you walked in here? Did you argue on the way here?"

"No, actually." Sherman raised his head back up to return her gaze, thinking to himself. "On the car ride over, it was almost… like how things were when I was growing up. We were laughing, he was cracking jokes, and I was bouncing off his witty remarks, it was just like I remember him."

"At least you've left him on a positive note," Penny calmly reassured him. "But right now, you need to find somewhere quiet to clear your head. We're starting soon, and I want you to be ready for your speech."

Sherman began fidgeting on the spot, anxiously looking at his surrounding colleagues, becoming visibly more unnerved. "I'll be fine, I just wish we could have talked about that later, because now it's all I can think about." A visible wave of guilt blanketed Penny's features upon hearing this.

"I'm sorry, I didn't realise this was eating at you so much, I just assumed the two of you were fine." She grimaced.

Sherman's face donned a frown of its own. "Yeah, well now I'm stressed out a little, so I think you should probably go talk to someone else right now."

A second pang of guilt washed over Penny. She quietly scanned Sherman's glazed eyes, trying to think of something to say that would raise his spirits, but before she could come up with anything, the sound of school staff herding students out of the room to take their designated seating put a stop to her thoughts.

"Put this one on the backburner for now?" Penny softly consoled Sherman. "I promise that we'll talk about this properly later and we can go through it step by step. I feel partially responsible, so for what it's worth, I'm going to stick by you."

"What?" Sherman shook himself out of his stupor, turning to Penny as she began to walk away. He reached forward and rested a hand on her shoulder, walking beside her as they headed toward the auditorium doors. "No, Penny. I have no idea where you got the notion of this being your fault." He sighed.

Penny fondly smiled, "Did you seriously forget how we met back in the first grade? Don't you remember all the horrible things I said about you? Surely that planted some kind of seed in your mind."

"I think you're giving yourself too much credit if you really think calling me a nerd incited even half of this!" Sherman sarcastically pouted.

Sherman's reaction soothed Penny's guilt somewhat, as she lightly laughed through her nose. "I was so, so petty back then."

"Well, I guess that makes both of us." Sherman chuckled. "You know what me and Mr. Peabody did the very next day after our little… situation?" He turned his gaze down to meet her eye-level as they continued to walk side-by-side. Earning a puzzled look, he continued. "We gave you a nick-name."

Her mouth dropped open. "You called me names? Behind my back? I can't believe you two! You know that half of that was your fault, by the way."

Sherman's face grew back into a toothy grin. "Okay, first of all, it was just one name we came up with and it barely stuck for a week, and secondly, I don't happen to remember getting caught in an arranged marriage about three thousand years before my time."

Penny's eyes widened, her eyes darting around at the students around them, making sure that no one had been listening to their conversation. "I have no idea what you're talking about." She deadpanned. "I'm a lady with standards."

The two shared a tension-easing laugh that melted the remaining stress that had lingered on Sherman's mind. Penny inwardly thanked herself for inadvertently getting onto a light-hearted topic.

"Anyway," She started, sighing her laughter away, "Now I really want to know what this so-called-nick-name was. I bet it was something stupid."

"Oh, you're right, it was stupid. Shouldn't have brought it up." Sherman bluntly stated. Penny turned and gave him a playful slap on the shoulder.

"Hey, that's not fair. You can't just bring something up like that and tell me it's nothing." She puffed. "I think I'm entitled to know, now."

"Fine, it was 'Petty Penny'." Sherman shrugged nonchalantly. Penny threw her hands up in a 'What?' gesture.

"That's it? You couldn't come up with anything more offensive? Have you seen my nose? You couldn't even think of roasting that?" Penny waved her hands around as she spoke.

"I told you, it was a dumb nick-name. Besides, Mr. Peabody was too polite to let me say anything even remotely rude at the time. Still doesn't. He thinks that 'hate inspires more hate' or something along those lines." He snickered.

"That's so wholesome!" Penny rested a hand to her chest. "I bet he'd thank the police for a parking ticket if he ever got one." She grinned back at Sherman. "He gets a free pass, but you," She pointed an accusatory finger, "Need to up your insult game. It's not really an insult if you don't even go for the easy stuff, like someone's looks or how they sound when they talk. Bonus points if you can mock their voice as badly as possible."

Sherman threw his head back and closed his eyes, sighing deeply. "You are such a bad influence." He groaned.

Penny perked up, "And that's why it works! We balance each other out or something, right?" She grinned.

"Or something." Sherman mockingly replied.

"Hey!" Penny shoved him playfully. "Now you're just stealing my material! Hey, catch you after the ceremony, I'm sitting near the back. Break a leg!" She gave him one final pat on the shoulder, continuing up the aisle of chairs.

Sherman, on the other hand, was situated in the front row, which had been reserved for students and teachers that would be giving speeches and accepting awards shortly.

He lowered himself into his chair, brushing off his pants as he sat down. He turned to his left, casually inspecting the room. About half of the students had found their seats on the right side of the auditorium, while the remaining left side of the room had been filling quickly with parents and a few dozen teachers. When his gaze turned to the very back of the auditorium, his gaze hardened.

"News cameras? Field reporters?" Sherman wondered aloud to himself incredulously.

"Oh, yeah, I noticed them too. Kind of sucks, but I guess I'd be pretty eager to report on anything even remotely positive that's happened this year." A voice replied in earshot of Sherman. Turning his head, he noticed it was David, his 'rival'.

"Hey, Dave! How's the weather up there?" He joked smoothly, slinging his arms behind his head. David snickered.

"I dunno, what's it like being the smartest guy in the school?" He coolly shot back, dropping into the seat next to him.

Sherman frowned. "You know I hate that kind of question. What are you here for?"

"Some kind of 'community pillar' award, which to me sounds like a spin on 'class clown'. But I get to give a short little speech of my own, so I'm not complaining." He shrugged, pulling a folded sheet of paper out of his pocket.

Sherman smirked. "That's nothing to sneeze at, you're so charismatic that you could sell anyone a broken pencil if you wanted to."

Sherman almost meant it. Beneath his charismatic exterior, David was a fierce diplomat. Not only did his wit serve to charm his way into admiration from many of his peers, but it also made him into a very persuasive individual. In some ways, Sherman envied his ability when it came to socialising with other people and getting his way.

"You're not usually this chipper," David mused, "are you letting the honour of being valedictorian go to your head?"

"No, I'm just excited to be finally done with school." Sherman shrugged.

David smirked. "Who isn't? And once this is over, things are going off the chain at Zack's place. You still planning on going?"

Sherman waved a hand in a 'so-so' motion. "I don't know, Dave. My dad's in a funny mood tonight, might be better if I just stay home."

David flashed a look of understanding. "Ah, go easy on the little guy, he's just proud of you, I bet. No one's forcing you to do anything, but let me know if you change your mind; The guys had some stuff planned for you at the party."

Sherman nodded. "Okay.".

The first hour of the graduation ceremony went by in a flash for Sherman. While school faculty were giving speeches on 'community spirit' and 'academic achievements', he tuned out, mentally preparing himself for his own speech. It wasn't like he hadn't spoken before a large audience before; he'd attended several science fairs on and off campus throughout his schooling days to boost his public speaking experience, only this time he wouldn't have to memorise a vast array of jargon or answer questions.

Much of his nervousness came from the fact that Mr. Peabody would be listening to his speech. His father, whom had guided him through the majority of his education, would be there to hear his take on his time at Susan B. Anthony. And that, to Sherman, was more worrying than he'd ever like to admit.

He was forced to start paying attention again, when David arose from his seat, giving him a pat on the shoulder.

"Good luck, you're on after me." He winked, turning and making his way up onstage.

Sherman sat upright in his seat, listening to David's speech.

"Good evening, everyone." He began, speaking as clearly and slowly as time would permit. "My name is David Stewart, and as Mrs. Joyce told you just now, I was nominated for the 'Pillar of School Community' award. I don't want to take up too much of your time, because I'm sure you're all just as eager as I am to see us graduate."

Sherman noted David's calm yet straight posture, telling himself to mimic that as best as he could when it came to his turn to talk.

"Here at Susan. B. Anthony school, we not only received the gift of knowledge from our teachers, but also formed friendships that will surely last a lifetime…"

Sherman turned around in his seat, looking to see if the news cameras were rolling, and to his dismay, they were not. Cursing quietly to himself, realising that they were strictly there to record his speech, he wringed his hands together, looking back up to David as he began wrapping up his speech.

"…So as we graduate from this school, I implore my fellow students to look back on their time at this school, and be thankful for their peers, and their teachers for guiding them into the future ever prepared for life's challenges. I would like to invite a great friend of mine, and the school's valedictorian for the year, Sherman Peabody!"

The room was enveloped in applause, as Sherman numbly stood up from his seat, and meekly walking up the steps to the podium. He winced slightly at the sound of a couple students whooping and cheering his name.

Everything seemed to slow to a crawl when he stepped behind the podium, as he gave himself a few seconds to take in the sight of the packed auditorium before him. Through the blinding white lights overhead, Sherman was barely able to make out any specific student or parent in the audience. This came as a mild relief to him, as he didn't want to inadvertently spot his father amongst the crowd. Unfortunately, though, he did take stock of the news cameras in the back, which were now fully set up and recording, with one field reporter stepping in front of one awaiting his speech. Swallowing the lump in his throat, he began his address.

"Uh…" He cringed lightly at how loud his voice sounded in the microphone, knowing that it would easily carry to the back of the room. "Hello. I'm Sherman Peabody, the valedictorian of Susan B. Anthony…"

He felt his face heat up in nervousness, as he briefly forgot his speech. A few more seconds passed before he decided to play it off. "…Uh, I insisted on memorizing what I had to say tonight, but I guess it helps to know what you're going to say first, before you uh, you say it." The tension in the room eased up ever so slightly as he could hear a small wave of laughter reach the stage, and that was all Sherman needed to reassure himself.

"I have been attending this school since the first grade, and over the course of eleven years, I can safely say that my time here was well spent. Throughout that time, I met some of the most incredible teachers and staff at the school, found close and loyal friends in my peers, and had the important opportunity to better myself as a person." He paused. "And yet, all of that would be for naught, had I not taken the time to look up from my study guides and homework assignments every now and then, and really appreciate what I got out of my schooling."

Noticing a small murmur rumble throughout the audience, he decided to continue.

"It's easy to dismiss school as a useless institution, one that serves no other purpose than to teach us what we don't need or want to know. But between the late night revisions, and the frantic last-minute study groups, I found plenty of people to confide in. Good, honest people. And that's when I realised that school isn't just math, history, science, biology, chemistry, music, computer science, and every other subject under the sun, no, it's also a time where we find ourselves. Where we finally come into our own as individuals, and make connections that last a lifetime. So if you were to ask me if my proudest accomplishment came from a grade in a test, or a percentage bracket in the national average, I would say no. Granted, I never sneezed at a good grade." He admitted, relishing in another wave of chuckles from the audience. "But I know what I really took from school. And I say let's celebrate that even more."

He spotted his father in the crowd.

"And I'd be remiss if I didn't thank the most important person in my life. Mr. Peabody, the best adoptive father anyone could ask for. His loyalty, care, and regard for me saw me through a lot of tough times. I think it goes without saying that all of us here tonight owe it to our parents that we made it this far; so make sure you all give them your thanks and show that you love them." His eyes returned to his father. "Thank you, dad."

Seeing a warm smile form around his muzzle, Sherman felt pride welling in his chest.

"In closing, I want to congratulate this year's class of Susan B. Anthony school, and I wish each and every one of you the best in your future endeavours. The world is your oyster!" He exclaimed, waiting for the audience's reaction.

To his contentment, the audience erupted into cheers, with a few students chanting Sherman's name, forcing a small smirk out of him. Striding down the steps of the stage and back into his seat, he grinned to David.

"Dude!" David yelled. "That was amazing! That stuff you said about connections lasting a lifetime, man, you had me in tears."

Sherman rolled his eyes comedically, "You basically said the same thing in your speech, but thank you anyway."

"Maybe, but it still sounds way better coming from someone else. What can I say? I'm proud of you, bro!" he gave Sherman a light punch on the arm.

The remainder of the night carried out rather quickly, as the principal hastily awarded each graduating student with a small parting gift, with each student standing shoulder-to-shoulder onstage. Once the final student had been called out, the entire grade were photographed, and dismissed from the auditorium before the guests, with a cheesy and upbeat pop song playing over the speakers to boot.

As Sherman sat outside with a handful of his fellow students, he felt himself tear up with pride.

The next stage of his life was beginning.


	4. Chapter 4

Sherman leant against a tree in the school grounds, talking elatedly with fellow students, still riding on the high of his graduation. Topics ranged from college plans to traveling interstate, with most conversations eventually turning back to Sherman's speech and an endless barrage of questions and praise. The former didn't phase him much, as the teen used his tried and true method of deflecting and giving vague, reserved answers, but he took to simply shrugging, nodding and smiling politely whenever a compliment came his way.

"So did you make up your mind? The gang wants to send you off with a bang at the party tonight." One student asked.

In response, he just shrugged, "Yeah, I asked my dad earlier and he said it should be alright. I might just stay for an hour or two though, I've got stuff on tomorrow."

To his displeasure, the student clapped him on the back. "I bet you'll end up staying 'till, like, 3 AM or something. Paaarty animal over here!"

"Ease up, Jay." A blonde-haired student rolled her eyes. "It's not his scene, clearly. Sherman, if you don't want to go, you don't have to."

Sherman flashed her a look of appreciation. "No, no, it's fine, I just want to celebrate with my dad, he's been looking forward to this night for a long time."

"Respect the loyalty, my guy." Jay nodded, not giving Sherman another back-slap, to his relief. "Speaking of, you might want to get outta here soon, looks like the press wants a word." He pointed out to the auditorium doors across the grassed park.

Following the trajectory of his finger, Sherman spotted a herd of news cameras and journalists standing beneath the lamp-lit marquee of the auditorium, looking in all directions. He let out a small groan, almost entirely sure that they were there for either himself or his father.

"Well then. I guess that's my night over with, unless if I do go to the party later. See you guys." Sherman glumly farewelled his colleagues, offering a half-hearted wave.

"Try ruffling your hair up or something." The blonde chuckled. "Hey, actually, do you want me to hold on to your blazer so I can give it back to you at the party tonight?"

Sherman raised his eyebrows. "Why would I give you my blazer?"

She raised her own eyebrows to match his expression. "So that they don't spot all the awards you got sewn on, there." She gestured an open hand to his patches. "You're literally visible from space."

Hesitating for a second, he pulls off his blazer, handing it to her. "Okay, but you better be at this party tonight, my dad will kill me if I don't get it back."

She shook her head. "You're like, three times his size, dude." She replied. "I'll put it straight in my car, you can get it back later."

Sherman felt regret pang in his stomach as he handed her the blazer, knowing that it mandated his attendance at the party. Putting his hands in his pockets, he began to speed-walk across the park, toward the parking lot of the school, facing away from the journalists as best as he could. He almost regretted giving her the blazer, as he felt the chill of the night air nip at his bare arms.

The plan seemed to work for all but one of the correspondents, as he heard hurried feet on grass rapidly approaching him from behind.

"Hey! Mr. Peabody? Care to answer a few of our questions?" The voice called.

Stopping in his tracks and sighing inwardly, he turned around slowly, making eye contact with the suited man, noticing a microphone being held no more than four inches from his face, and a blinding light silhouetting the figure. Sherman recoiled at the realisation that he'd likely be seeing footage of the oncoming interaction for days to come on the media circuit.

"Just a few," He snipped, "And call me Sherman, Mr. Peabody is my dad."

"And how is your dad? Is he in good health?" The reported pushed for an answer. Sherman reeled, changing his posture out of discomfort.

"Yeah? He's doing fine." Sherman narrowed his eyes, noting the tone of the question.

The reporter nodded rigidly, "I see, okay. Obviously it goes without saying that your father is the founder and sole proprietor of Peabody Industries, one of the largest technological innovators in the world. Do you have any plans to take over after his passing?"

If it were physically possible, Sherman would have believed that his eyes had bulged out of their sockets at that question. Quickly regaining his composure, he frowned. "I'm not dignifying that with an answer."

The correspondent clenched his teeth somewhat, turning to the camera dumbfoundedly, but forced himself back into the interview upon seeing the camera-man gesture for him to continue. "But in an interview with CorpoTech magazine, he said that his legacy would live on in his successor. Is he not talking about you? If you don't plan to continue the family business, what else do you have planned? Harvard? MIT? Are you starting another business out of spite for your father?"

Sherman was floored by the barrage of questions, feeling the anxiety in his chest build. "How dare you ask me something like that! What goes on in my personal life is none of your business! I'm not talking to you anymore, I'm done." Feeling his voice begin to waver, he waved a hand of dismissal, wishing it were half as authoritative as it felt.

Storming away as quickly as he could, Sherman took solace in knowing that the reporter did not follow him as he made his way into the parking lot.

Hastily unlocking the car door and slipping in, Sherman closed himself off from the outside bustle of parents and students leaving the school one last time. A wave of impatience washing over him, he heatedly tugged his phone out of his pocket, mashing his way into his text messaging app, sending a curt 'Where are you?' message to Mr. Peabody. Letting his phone fall to his lap once he had pressed 'send', he slumped back into his seat, his mood soured by the altercation.

Leaning his head against the window to still his body from shaking with anger, Sherman began to calm down, telling himself that he wouldn't have to deal with it for much longer.

All of his attempts to extinguish his frustrations were negated when he spotted his father through the chain link fence of the parking lot, politely addressing a small congregation of interviewers, one of which being the man whom had just spoken to him.

Letting out what felt like the hundredth sigh for the night, Sherman rubbed a hand against his face, setting his glasses askew.

Being the controversial adoptive son of a literate dog, the latter of whom had defied all understanding of the canine brain, Sherman had been in the public eye for as long as he could remember. Initially, Mr. Peabody had the courtesy of keeping his child away from prying eyes, refusing to go into detail about his home life with Sherman, and avoiding the paparazzi whenever he were to take Sherman out into the city. But, ultimately, as time wore on, the viability of Peabody shielding Sherman's public image grew thin; as Sherman eventually would have to go to school, attend public events, and represent himself as an individual.

While Peabody seemed to front the media with a great deal of gusto and charm, Sherman quickly grew to despise the trailing news cameras and wannabe journalists that stuck to them like cement whenever they poked their heads out. His father seemed to thrive on the pride he'd get out of receiving accolades and accumulating global acclaim from the public and esteemed public figures alike. And so, Sherman resigned himself to the understanding that the two were, for lack of a better term, celebrities.

He felt claustrophobic at the thought, often finding himself wishing that he could just disappear far away from it all. Sometimes he'd have to restrain himself from asking Peabody to find a way to take him away from all of this.

But he'd always have to stop himself, because he knew that he already had found a way.

But Sherman didn't want to talk about it anymore, not since the day he'd nearly lost the one person in the entire world with even a shred of faith in him.

And it was all his fault.

His mistake.

Mistake.

The sound of air rushing into the car as the passenger side door swung open jolted Sherman out of his inner monologue.

"Sorry, Sherman. I just received your message. I was conversing with some… overzealous folk." Peabody apologised.

"Journalists and paparazzi, Mr. Peabody, I get it. You can't turn down a good bit of publicity." Sherman's fists curled around the steering wheel, as the engine hummed to life.

"Seatbelt, Sherman." Peabody pointed out.

Robotically latching his seatbelt into place and pulling out of the parking lot, Sherman let his face drift into an unreadable expression. Peabody looked absentmindedly out the window of the car briefly, before turning his head back to Sherman.

"The press was surprisingly well-behaved tonight, considering the occasion. I recall a time where I could barely attend a UN summit without-"

"Mr Peabody," Sherman interjected, "Did you tell everyone that I'm going to be taking over your company when you die?"

Peabody's eyes widened in shock at the boy's straight-forward question. He cocked his head slightly, letting his left ear dangle freely. "Sherman, from whom did you hear such a thing?"

Sherman forced his eyes to remain on the road ahead, firmly gripping the steering wheel with both hands. "One of your 'fans' told me." He snipped. "Mr. Peabody, I… ugh, I just wish you didn't go around saying stuff like that."

Peabody squeezed his eyes shut, not even contemplating a response. When he opened them, he commented on the first thing that came to mind to divert the conversation. "Sherman, where on Earth is your blazer? You must be awfully cold, don't tell me you lost it?"

"Don't you _dare_ change the subject." Sherman countered. "You haven't once asked me what I have in mind, what I want do to!"

"I'll have to apologise to the guests." Peabody muttered aloud to himself, "However will I introduce you now, behaving like this?"

"What are you talking about, _dad_, you're making plans and I'm not even in on them!" Sherman pleaded, slumping his shoulders exhaustedly. "Did you invite people over again?"

Peabody inhaled sharply through his nose, trying to maintain a neutral tone. "Sherman, we've been through this already, we don't address one another that way-"

"I'm _eighteen!_ Are you not proud enough of me to let me call you by anything other than your name?" Sherman blurted. "One minute you're praising me for being your son, the next you're punishing me for acting like one."

"I cannot say that I approve of your behaviour either, Sherman. From my perception, this behaviour is very uncharacteristic of you! What did I do to incite such… such rage?" He scowled.

The car fell silence once more.

"You adopted me, that's what you did." Sherman hoarsely offered.

A combination of sadness, shock and guilt rolled across Peabody's face like storm clouds. "Sherman?" He croaked, struggling to form a sentence. "I-I don't understand." His eyes fell, the floor of the car suddenly becoming very interesting, as he tried to process what he had just been told.

"I'm sick of it, Peabody." Sherman quietly continued, swallowing his pride.

"…I do not like what you are insinuating." Peabody numbly replied.

Feeling his eyes threaten to well up, Sherman shrugged in faux carelessness. "Me neither."

Peabody sighed deeply, leaning forward into his seat, massaging his temples. "Okay," he spoke, as calmly and comfortingly as possible, "I cannot let you think that way." He mumbled, his voice quivering. "Sherman, if you feel that I have failed as a father, I would surely want to know."

Sherman winced, feeling guilt fall to his stomach like a rock. "No, Mr. Peabody, you didn't fail me." He reassured. "I failed myself, for letting it get to this point."

Peabody was too engrossed in his own worry that he didn't notice the car had pulled up outside of Peabody Industries.

"I think it's best if we have some time to ourselves, tonight." Sherman insisted. "I'm going to this party, like it or not. I'll be home before twelve."

Nodding lightly, Peabody slowly exited the vehicle, stepping mindlessly onto the sidewalk, his brain running overtime to comprehend the sudden turn of the night.

"We're having guests over tomorrow." He flatly stated, receiving no response from Sherman other than direct eye contact.

Closing the door with both paws, he watched on as the car rolled back onto the road, and into the distance.


	5. Chapter 5

"No way, the nerd's actually making an appearance!" Zack exclaimed, pushing past another teen whom had opened the front door to the outer-suburban home. "Welcome to my chateau, bro!"

"Thanks." Sherman smiled weakly, scratching the back of his head, as Zack stepped aside to let him enter.

Zack eyed Sherman up and down. "Are you still in your uniform, dude? That's weird."

He shrugged stiffly, trying to play it off. "Didn't have time to change, so I came straight here."

Zack nodded, one eyebrow raised. "No sweat, just wanted to make sure you know what kind of house party this is. It's not chess club, just so we're clear."

Sherman let that one slide.

"Sherman! Hey!" Penny called, emerging from the crowded living room to greet him. "I thought you said you weren't going to show?"

"I said 'maybe', and I wasn't exactly ready to go home." Sherman offered as a response, eliciting a look of sympathy from Penny.

"Oh, Sherman…" She solemnly took a step closer. "Don't tell me you had another argument?"

He raised a hand defensively. "I came here for two things, and then I'll go home, is that so much to ask? I want to take my mind off it for at least a bit."

She glumly frowned, resting a hand on his forearm. "Okay, but don't do anything stupid, you know you don't have to do anything you don't want to."

He rolled his eyes, recoiling away from her touch. "Penny, I never get to go to parties, let me be 'stupid' for once."

"'Atta boy!" Zack whooped, slapping a hand to Sherman's back, offering him a red plastic cup.

"What's in it?" Sherman asked, getting only a grin in response.

"It's no fun if you ask." Zack coolly returned.

As Zack left the pair to go back out into the backyard, Sherman took a sip, wincing at the slight burn of alcohol on his tongue. Seeing his reaction, Penny let out a small giggle.

"Come on, let's go sit somewhere and talk," She ushered him down onto a black leather couch in the crowded living room. "Have you ever even had a drink before? Surely not."

Sherman scratched his arm, trying to recall. "I know Mr. Peabody did let me sneak a taste of red one time when he brought me along to a business party, that was a long time ago. And I also had a taste of champagne a few years ago at New Year's."

"Mr. Peabody himself let you drink? While underage? Scandalous!" Penny covered her face in mock shock, the act causing Sherman to uncontrollably grin.

"Shut up, we're all underage." He smirked. "I'm only staying for a bit and then I'm going home."

Just then, he noticed the female student from earlier that night, wearing his blazer over her shoulders, talking to a group of teenagers he didn't recognise.

"One second, Penny," Sherman glanced to her, getting up and approaching the student. "Excuse me," he politely stated, "Can I have my blazer back?"

"Huh? Oh yeah, sure, whatever." The girl mumbled, passing it to him. Sherman cursed inwardly when he could feel a wet patch on the article, immediately assuming someone had spilled alcohol on it.

"Thanks…" He muttered, turning around to sit beside Penny. As he made his way back to the couch, he noticed that David had taken his spot. Stopping in front of the couch and opting to just stand in front of the two and fold his arms, he cleared his throat.

Adjusting his gaze from Penny to Sherman, David's face broke out into a beam. "Yo, S-dog! Never thought I'd see you around here!"

Sherman pressed his fingers to the bridge of his nose and shook his head. "Why does everyone act like it's such a surprise to see me at a party?"

David reclined back in his seat. "Well, for starters, I can't remember a single time I saw you outside of school. Have we ever even hung out after school?"

"Don't take it personally, Dave," Penny laughed, slapping a hand on his lap. "Sherman almost never invites anyone over. I could probably count on one hand the amount of times I've come over to visit."

"Yeah, and don't you live in an apartment or something? I live in the crappiest neighbourhood ever, and you're right on central park. If I were you, I'd invite people over every night to flex." David scoffed, pausing briefly to pick up Sherman's red cup, which he'd left wedged between two couch cushions. Giving it a sniff, he winced. "Ugh, did Zack give you this garbage, Sherman? Don't even bother drinking anything, it's all wack stuff. I'm pretty sure he has a death wish with all this cheap and nasty gunk." He turned around in his seat, opening the window and pouring the drink straight out onto the lawn, to the amusement of Penny and Sherman.

"You're not drinking anything?" Sherman questioned, David shook his head.

"Can't. I have a job interview tomorrow morning, and I am not making that mistake again." He hissed, baring his teeth in an exaggerated grimace. "It's not a good position to be in." Looking at his watch, he sighed. "That reminds me, I should get going."

"But the party just started!" Sherman exclaimed.

"I just wanted to check it out and then go home. It's not really my crowd anyway, half of these students are unbearable to talk to. You should probably go home too, Sherman. No offense, but I think your dad might worry about you being here. Plus the guys have something planned for you, so I wouldn't stick around for too long."

Sherman sighed, looking around briefly at all the tipsy students and strangers packed into the room. "Yeah, I think I'm gonna get going."

"Could you give me a lift home, Sherman?" Penny piped up. "If you two are going, I don't want to stay either. Dave's right, this party sucks anyway."

Sherman shrugged, nodding. "Sure, let's go now, then.". He looked at his watch, realising that it was still only nine-thirty. "It's still kind of early though."

"Wanna get something to eat?" Penny offered. "Late night dinner, plus we can hang out before we never see each-other again." She joked.

"Hey," Dave pointed an accusatory finger, pulling his phone out of his pocket with his other hand, "Not funny. And I guess I'm up for food, if you give me a ride home, Sherman. I was going to walk, otherwise."

"Yeah sure, I can do that." Sherman agreed without second thought.

With that, Penny and David rose from their seats, following Sherman out of the house and into the dimly lit street. As the three slid into Sherman's car, with Penny in the passenger seat and David in the back, they sat for a moment. David scrunched his nose.

"What's that smell? Sherman, is that coming from you?" David said with disgust.

"Someone spilled a drink all over my blazer. I'll have to wash it when I get home." He rolled his eyes in mild frustration.

"Anyway, I was thinking of burgers. Is anywhere open this late?" Penny wondered aloud.

"It's not that late, I'm sure someplace is still open." David replied, basking himself in the glow of his phone's screen as he tapped away, looking for restaurants on his GPS. "There's a diner that serves burgers just five minutes from here, apparently."

One quick exchange of the address later, and Sherman was back on the road, driving toward the diner. The three sat quietly in their seats as the low hum of the engine and sound of the occasional car passing them by provided a soft undertone to their travels.

David cleared his throat. "I know Penny was joking just before, but we don't have to lose touch after all this. I don't know what the two of you have planned, but if you're ever in town, I'm always down to hang out."

"You're not leaving New York?" Penny queried, looking over her shoulder.

David shook his head. "I can't. I gotta look after my mom. She's not doing too well. I'm not sure if college is right for me just yet."

Penny nodded in understanding, deciding not to question any further. "I thought about going to NYU myself, but I want to stretch my legs a bit, maybe move to another state just for a change of scenery."

Sherman said nothing, despite knowing that David and Penny were waiting to hear him offer up his own plans. Pulling alongside the diner, he turned the car off. "Alright, we're here."

The three filed into the quiet diner, fluorescent lights buzzing overhead as they sat themselves into a booth near a window. The air smelled just as one would expect, like a grill, a cheap jug of coffee, and grease all at once.

Slapping his hands on the table and immediately standing back up, David proclaimed, "I don't care what I get, as long as it's a burger. You guys alright with that too?" He gestured to Penny and Sherman questioningly. But before he could leave the table, Sherman got out of his seat.

"Let me shout this one, Dave." He didn't wait for a reply as he made his way to the counter, placing three orders of cheeseburgers and fries. To his surprise, the food was ready very quickly, only having to wait two minutes for the cashier to produce three plates of burgers and fries from the order window.

"Hey, I know you!" The cragged middle-aged woman behind the register remarked as she spritzed the counter with cleaning product. "You're the kid that got adopted all those years ago! My son wants to be smart like your father one day. You're a lucky young man, you know."

Sherman puffed through his nose modestly. "He'd probably fare better than me. I don't think even my dad is smart enough for his standards but thank you."

"Eh?" The woman scrunched her face, looking up at him vacantly. "I just tell him that dog eats lots of greens, it works like a charm. He thinks that brussels sprouts will make his brain grow. Imagine that!" She cackled.

Flashing a polite but slightly uncomfortable smile to the woman, Sherman balanced the three plates between his arms, returning to the booth with Penny and David. The trio didn't hesitate to begin eating ravenously.

David covered his mouth to ask, "You didn't get drinks?"

Sherman shook his head. "No, sorry. I'm not that thirsty, but if you want something to drink, be my guest."

David began to get up from his seat, but stopped when his phone buzzed. Pulling it out and answering the call, his shoulders fell slightly. "I'll get a drink in a minute, I gotta take this call. Sorry."

David excused himself from the booth, going outside to answer the call. Penny took this as an opportunity to talk to Sherman privately.

"Now." Penny cautiously began. "You said you weren't ready to go home. Do I need to explain myself for being concerned by that?"

Sherman put his burger down, wiping his mouth with a napkin. "Penny, please."

"No, Sherman, this is serious! With college on the horizon, you can't afford to clam up now. It's not healthy to brush off your family issues like that." Penny pleaded.

"College is not 'on the horizon' for me, Penny." Sherman air-quoted. Her eyes widened somewhat.

"Okay… That's fine." She reassured. A pause. "Can I ask why?"

"Full disclosure? I can't decide. That's the short answer." Sherman exhaled raggedly. "Do you have any idea how I feel right now? My father's legacy, his following, his job, and his expectations are all hounding on me at once." He narrowed his stare when Penny smiled lightly at the unintentional pun.

"Everyone's acting like I'm blessed to have so many options available to me, but really I see it as an invitation to screw my life up and amount to nothing. Is that a good enough answer?" Sherman sibilated.

"So all that talk about moving out and seeing the world was just bull? Sherman, I… ugh, you haven't even told him about us?" Penny puzzled. "This isn't fair to me either, you know. Whatever emotional baggage you have between you and Mr. Peabody, you need to lose as soon as possible."

"That's easier said than done!" Sherman scoffed, leaning back in his seat. "He expects the world from me, I can't just say 'Hey, sorry Mr. Peabody, but all the time you've spent supporting me and raising me was wasted, bye'!"

"He's _your father._ It's his job to be supportive! I think the real problem is yourself. You don't want to admit that you're not ready to get on with your life, so you're using him as a crutch for pity."

"That's easy for you to say when you're not the executor of one of the most influential people in the country!" Sherman spat.

"I never said it would be easy." Penny jeered. "But for your own sake, you have to take control. You're hurting him and yourself for as long as you do nothing about it."

"What do you expect me to do, then?" Sherman threw his hands up, ignoring the attention it drew from the few other patrons of the diner.

"For one, you can start by telling him that you're moving away with me." Penny affirmed. "Then, you tell him you're not going to college. And lastly, tell him how you really feel, because I want to see the two of you on good terms again."

"What if he refuses to listen?" Sherman faltered.

"He's a dog. He can't not listen. And if he can't handle the fact that his son is a man now, then that's on him to sort out personally. On his own time." Penny spoke in finality.

"Okay." Sherman rasped, choking up on the thought of having such a conversation with Mr. Peabody.

"Just remember to tell him that you're not going away forever. You'll visit him on special occasions, birthdays, and whatnot. He's a big dog, and a smart one too, he'll get over it."

As if on cue, David returned, stopping before the two teens. "You guys want anything to drink?"

Shaking their heads and watching him walk away again to order a drink, Sherman remembered to ask one last favour of Penny.

"So Mr. Peabody is throwing a social thing tomorrow in the penthouse…" Sherman began.

"No, I'm not going." Penny snipped.

"Please? It's always awkward when it's just me. Plus if you're there… maybe I'll feel like telling him afterwards." Sherman reasoned.

Resignation overtook her features. "Fine. But you know he won't approve of me being there."

"I know, and I don't care." Sherman concluded.

Eventually, David returned with a diet cola and the three continued to eat and drink, discussing their time at Susan B. Anthony school. Once they had all finished eating, Sherman drove his two friends home, starting with David, and then Penny. Once he'd said his goodbyes to Penny, he reluctantly returned home to the penthouse, parking his car inside the private garage, and taking the long elevator ride up into the skyscraper.

The doors opened, and upon seeing that all the lights in the apartment were turned off, Sherman concluded that Peabody had gone to bed. However, his conclusion proved to be false, as he heard the clearing of a throat as he passed the couch.

"Hello, Sherman." Peabody hesitantly greeted.

Sherman froze momentarily, trying to gauge his father's tone before responding. "Hi, Mr. Peabody. It's before midnight, like I promised."

"That's quite alright, Sherman." Peabody reassured him. "I trust you. Am I safe in assuming you know why I am still awake?"

"I think so." Sherman quietly replied. "You want to talk about what I said earlier?"

"Of course I do, Sherman." Peabody stood up from his seat, approaching his son slowly, cupping his paws together. "I'm concerned for you. While you were gone, I had plenty of time on my paws to ponder the implications of our conversation earlier, and having reached a conclusion I wasn't overly thrilled to come to, we need to have a dialogue."

"Can it wait, Peabody? Don't you have more important things to worry about?" Sherman cajoled.

"The wellbeing of my son takes priority. Sit." The dog genius gestured over to the couch. Sherman fidgeted on the spot briefly, before relenting.

"Now…" Peabody began slowly, upon taking a seat beside his teenage son, stopping to sniff the air.

"Are you drunk?" He fretted.

"No, Mr. Peabody," Sherman quickly reassured. "Someone spilled their drink all over my blazer."

Peabody nodded slowly. "I see." He decided not to chastise his son for being so careless, instead opting to resume the conversation at hand.

"There are several things to address. I want to address the most concerning one of all, if you don't mind?" Sherman shrugged, avoiding eye contact. Peabody didn't wait for a reply. "Whatever conflict there is between us, I take it that you believe it to be your own fault in some capacity."

Leaning forward to pick up a steaming mug of hot herbal tea, Peabody gently offered the light beverage to Sherman, who gingerly accepted.

"I do not ever want to hear you refer to yourself as a mistake. When I found you in that alley all those years ago, I knew what I wanted to do. The courts, the public, the press, they all wanted me to back down. But I wanted nothing more than to be your father, and I fought for that right with tooth and claw." Peabody raised a paw, pointing to the nearby 'memory wall'. "Do you see that birth certificate over there? That is a declaration that you matter as a person. Not only that, but you're my son. And as your father, I refuse to hear otherwise."

Sherman nodded slowly, looking at the floor, still not feeling quite ready to face him.

"… And that's when it hit me." Peabody continued. "All those years ago, when the Petersons came to visit, and you used the WABAC without my permission. You still think that I'm upset about that, don't you?"

"Of course I don't think you're still upset about that, _I'm_ still upset about that." Sherman retorted.

"And that is what I was afraid of." Peabody sighed. "You think that you ruined my invention, and that the incident feel entirely under your blame."

Peabody winced upon seeing Sherman shuffle in his seat slightly. That wasn't it.

"Sherman, I can't help you if I can't deduce what the problem is." He pleaded. "Do you miss the WABAC? Is that it? I can rebuild it if you would like to-"

"No, actually, I don't want you to rebuild it. In fact, the day you dismantled it was a good day." Sherman spat. "You think I'm upset because I can't go… gallivanting around in time with you? It was a stupid responsibility to put on a kid. The amount of times we nearly ruined the time-space continuum, and the one time I did are all good enough reason to leave that thing in the past where it belongs."

"But what about your heroes, Sherman? Leonardo? Gandhi? Copernicus? Wouldn't you like to see them once more?" Peabody questioned.

"They're all in the past, Peabody." Sherman countered. "I'm an adult now, with my own life to worry about. I need to get on with it."

Peabody furrowed his brows in confusion. "What does that imply?" He jeered. "Do you think that all that I have done up to this point was for me? My own selfish endeavours? That I would bring you along on my travels to hold you back?"

"That's not what I meant." Sherman exasperatedly replied.

"Then tell me what you really mean." Peabody insisted.

"Fine," Sherman snapped, finally looking up to meet his father's eyes. "I mean to tell you that I'm moving away from New York to make my own way, and I don't want you to have any part in it."

…

"What?" Peabody rasped.


	6. Chapter 6

The penthouse was whipped into shape. Countertops were polished to a shine, windows were wiped dangerously clean, and potential subjects of conversation were unapologetically left out in plain view.

"Mr. Peabody?" Sherman called out, leaving his room to speak to his father. He found him in the kitchen, preparing a final tray of canapés for the guests.

Peabody sighed quietly. "Yes, Sherman?"

Sherman hesitated momentarily, feeling the suppressed disappointment ebb from him. "I know this is an important night to you, and you have it all planned out. I just want to let you know that I won't be bothering you; I'll just be in my room."

Peabody didn't look up from his preparations. "Sherman, I have some very inspiring and important figures of society visiting tonight, are you sure that you'd prefer to laze about in your bedroom?"

"It's either that, or I sit on the couch twiddling my thumbs all night. You know I don't have anything in common with your friends." Sherman leaned against the fridge.

Peabody slid his eyes shut indignantly, spearing a toothpick through a piece of prosciutto. "Sherman, I know you're feeling antisocial, as children of your age normally do, but I can't have your uncouth behaviour in plain view for all the guests."

"Uncouth behaviour?" Sherman remarked. "Mr. Peabody, this is your party, with your own guests. I don't force you to hang out with my friends when I hang out with them!"

"Sherman, we're not 'hanging out' with the state governor. Nor will we be presenting ourselves so… liberally in front of shareholders!"

"Well, then I guess now is a good time to tell you that I'm inviting Penny over." Sherman shrugged, stating the fact casually. "We'll try to stay out of the way of your little press conference."

"Sherman, if you're doing this to spite me…" Peabody warned.

"Not at all. I'm just letting you know now so you don't have to yell at me later." Sherman placated.

As if on cue, the elevator chimed.

"The guests are early!" Peabody exclaimed, taking off his apron, and wiping himself down. Sherman watched on as Peabody left the room.

"Ah, welcome to my- oh… Penny. How are you?" Said Peabody, trying to hide the disappointment in his voice.

"Hey, Mr. Peabody." Penny replied, an empathetic look gracing her face. "I know you're having people over tonight, so I wanted to get here early and get out of your way."

"Well, I haven't seen you in a long while. I don't suppose Sherman put you up to this?" Peabody queried, massaging his forehead.

"Whatever is going on between you two is none of my business. At least, until you make it mine." Penny shrugged.

Peabody narrowed his gaze at her. "Would I be correct to assume that he has in fact made it your business?"

"Yes, unfortunately." Penny sighed.

Sherman jogged out from the kitchen, smiling as he met eyes with Penny. "Hey, you're early! I told you to wait another hour."

"I knew you'd try to make me show when all the guests were already here." Penny deadpanned.

Sherman scoffed. "Guilty! Okay, come on, let's go." He jogged toward the stairs, Penny in toe.

"Sorry, Peabody" She apologised over her shoulder. "I'll talk some sense into him if I can help it."

Peabody straightened out his apron, walking back into the kitchen.

The pair slipped into Sherman's room; the door closing shut behind them. Sherman flopped onto the bed, while Penny opted to remain standing, folding her arms.

"So, I take it you didn't do what I asked you to do?" Penny began but stopped when Sherman raised a finger.

"I did…" Sherman started, "But not all of it. I just told him that I'm moving out."

"Mhm, mhm." Penny hummed in distracted agreement, reaching for a book on a nearby shelf. "Can I borrow this?" She asked, picking up a copy of 'Stranger in a Strange Land'.

"Sure, why not. I finished it ages ago." Sherman shrugged, tossing his phone into the air above him and catching it. "Upside to having a father that assigned 'mandatory in-house reading' to his nine-year-old son."

Penny sighed, placing herself down onto his bed, lying beside him and reading the synopsis of the book mindlessly. "You know, Peabody being worried about your future isn't the worst thing to have to deal with. Say you do move out, what do you plan to do?"

Sherman swiped through his social media accounts, attempting to divide his attention. "I don't know. Travel, get a job, live somewhere quiet, anything to get away from here."

"I remember the last time you were like this." Penny scoffed. "This is like the time your dad offered you a casual job at his company, and you insisted on working at a supermarket instead."

"That was a different thing." Sherman shook his head. "I wanted to make my own money, and I wanted to do it fairly, instead of taking the easy option and letting him do everything for me again."

"So, you think he does everything for you. Your problem?" Penny opened the book, speed-reading the first page. "When you've got the opportunity to take something freely, why not take it?"

Sherman turned his phone off, letting it fall to his chest. "I guess you're right, it is just like that. I think I'm just sick of having him make everything his business. I want to go and feel like I'm making something of myself, by myself. And I'm not saying I'm ungrateful for everything he's done, he really did prepare me for school from a young age, and he has done nothing but be supportive. But sometimes I feel like he's trying to force his legacy down my throat."

"Could be worse." Penny snapped the book shut. "You could be David and have no college prospects, no job, and be a full-time carer."

Sherman winced. "That bad, huh?"

"Yeah, _that bad_, Sherman. You've been complaining so much about yourself lately, no one else has gotten a word in." Penny humourlessly chuckled. "Alright, I'm bored of talking about your issues. Can we do something fun?" She pulled herself up into a sitting position.

"I don't know, what do you want to do?" Sherman questioned back at her.

"I'm a guest in your home, you should be telling me!" Penny smacked a hand to her face.

Sherman flashed an apologetic grin. "Sorry, I mostly just invited you over to make my hiding away less awkward."

"While making it more awkward for me in the process…" Penny muttered.

Sherman shrugged. "Small price to pay. You know he also said he'd rebuild the WABAC."

Penny bolted upright. "He did? Why?"

"I have no idea. I don't want him to." Sherman sighed.

"Okay, now that I don't get." Penny folded her arms. "Why would you turn down having another chance to time travel?"

Sherman rolled his eyes, flopping into his desk-chair. "Let me put it this way. Last year, when I wanted to go on that camping trip with David, Carl and Mason, my dad made me stay home and study AP Calculus. He told me he was preparing me for college, but really, I think he was preparing me to take his job. He gave me a tour of the office downstairs that Summer and had me sit in on several of his business errands. It was humiliating."

"I fail to see how this has anything to do with you refusing to use the WABAC." Penny flopped back onto the bed, looking up to the ceiling.

"It's hard to explain. It's like he's trying to keep a grip on my life. If I go time-traveling with him again, I might not… want to stop?" Sherman threw his hands up exasperatedly. "I honestly don't know, I'm conflicted. It's like he wants me to feel bad about living my own life. So, I'm saying no."

Penny huffed through her nose, cracking a small smile. "I think you're overthinking it slightly. He's probably just reminiscing the old days and wants to do something fun with his son one last time before he goes out into the world. Using the WABAC doesn't mean you're going to stay at home and take over his job, Sherman."

"I know, it's probably irrational to think like that, Penny. But he _invented_ the WABAC for me. Why would he rebuild it just for this one occasion?"

Penny turned to her side to face him. "You do realise he loved that thing as much as you did, right? Didn't he make friends with a bunch of people? Remember Da Vinci?"

"Yes, I remember Da Vinci." Sherman muttered. "Please don't make me all sentimental about it, I'm trying to live in the present."

"Sherman, most people are afraid of change. Why are you so desperate to move on?" Penny exasperatedly questioned.

"Because I'm an adult now, Penny!" Sherman snipped. "I'm ready for the next stage of my life."

"I'm sorry, but your definition of 'next stage of my life' sounds like an excuse to avoid your dad." She accused.

"You don't get it, and I don't expect you to." Sherman replied with an air of finality. "Anyway, I'm hungry, are you?"

Penny shot a warning glance to Sherman. "Don't even think about it."

"What? It's my home too, and I'm hungry." Sherman shrugged, flashing a cheeky grin.

Penny stood up, blocking the door. "Tough, you should've eaten earlier. You're not walking out there in jeans and a t-shirt."

Sherman snaked around her, slipping out the door. Sighing indignantly, she followed him quietly.

Not to her surprise at all, she immediately felt under-dressed. The apartment was full of well-dressed men and women, all of which were undoubtedly important for one reason or another. The smell of appetisers and dry-cleaned suits hit her nose like a train.

"Well?" Sherman called over his shoulder. "Come on, I wanna eat something." He sauntered across the living room, toward the kitchen, weaving through groups of elegantly dressed executives. Penny reluctantly followed, muttering quiet apologies as she bumped into a few.

"Sherman, I'm pretty sure I saw half a dozen foreign ministers out there!" Penny exclaimed upon entering the kitchen. "Are you sure I shouldn't just go home?"

"Why would I want you to go home?" Sherman perked an eyebrow at her, before turning to the three large steel fridges, opening one and rummaging around between well-wrapped platters of food that'd been pre-prepared by Peabody. "We have these parties all the time, and I'm always couped up in my room. Either that or I'm out there pretending to be interested."

Penny smirked. "You pretend to be interested? You _do_ realise that a lot of people would kill to meet the creator of Vloggr?"

Sherman leant into the fridge, pulling out a plastic container, unceremoniously placing it down onto the counter. "Oh, that guy's here every time. Be my guest, go and talk to him." He gestured a hand to the now closed door. "I'll warn you though, he's a real nut. You do _not_ want to talk politics with him."

"Sherman, you should be out there talking to people. Mr. Peabody probably invites them over to strengthen his connections in the industry, or something like that. Wouldn't hurt to make some friends yourself." Penny joked, leaning against the counter.

"Hey, I have friends!" Sherman scoffed. "I have you, don't I? And," he snapped open the lid of the container, "this delicious leftover Serradura that Mr. Peabody made last night." He grinned.

"Sarah-what?" Penny said.

"Serradura," Sherman corrected, "it's a Portuguese dessert. It's basically just biscuit crumbs and whipped cream layered upon each other. Want some?"

"I'm good." Penny rolled her eyes, peeking out the window of the kitchen to the conversing guests, feeling self-conscious every time eyes drifted over to her. "Can we go back to your room?"

Sherman grabbed a teaspoon from a nearby drawer, nodding as he led her out of the kitchen and back into the packed living room. The pair stopped short in the doorway of his room, noticing Peabody was inside, talking to a few guests.

"Ah, there you are, Sherman!" Peabody chimed. "I was just showing the guests your trophy wall!" Sherman let out a quiet sigh, flashing a small smile to the group of unrecognisable executives in his room.

"Sherman received this award last year for achieving in the top percentile of Spanish students participating in the National Language Learners challenge! In fact, he is conversationally fluent in four languages! Not Mandarin as I'd hoped, but he has plenty of time to-" Peabody stopped, as Sherman cleared his throat.

"Well, Mr. Peabody knows nine, working towards his tenth language if you all didn't know already. That's pretty cool, right?" Sherman mused with mock enthusiasm that only Peabody could detect.

"That's Sherman," Peabody chuckled, "very humble. He also has various merits and commendations from fields ranging through science, history, and-"

"Why don't you go and show them your collection of trophies and awards, Mr. Peabody?" Sherman snipped, trying to get the group to leave his room. Furrowing his brow slightly, Peabody relented.

"But Sherman, aren't you proud of your excellence in achievement award for the National Mathematics Tournament you attended last year?" Peabody questioned.

Sherman folded his arms. "Of course, I am. You asked me to cancel a camping trip with friends so I could study AP Calculus over the Summer. That'd be hard to forget."

Peabody ignored the comment, turning back to his guests.

"Ah yes, now I normally do not allow visitors into my home office, but tonight is a special occasion." He began, clapping his paws together. "Follow me, everybody!" Peabody snapped his paw-fingers, leading the group out of the room.

Penny stood aside as the line of people filed out the doorway. "He's proud of you Sherman, I think you're being hard on him."

"He said he wouldn't have people going into my room." He grunted, flopping onto his bed, gesturing for Penny to close the door behind her as she entered.

"And _you_ agreed to not leave your room tonight." Penny shot back, crossing her arms.

Sherman glared at her. "Why are you on his side now? Do you want to swap parents or something?"

Penny shook her head indignantly. "I don't want to talk about this, let's just put on a movie or something so I don't have to listen to your complaining anymore."

After some deliberation, the pair had come to an agreement on a movie to watch. Both Sherman and Penny sat quietly on the bed, watching the movie on his laptop, as the sound of guests conversing and laughing could be heard outside the room. It was not long after the movie had finished, that the commotion had died down. Hearing a knock at his bedroom door, Sherman reluctantly leapt from the bed and answered it.

Sherman immediately looked down, already knowing that it'd been his father who had knocked on the door.

"Yes, Mr. Peabody?" Sherman answered cautiously.

Peabody looked up at his son with an unreadable expression, one that Sherman had never seen before. Regardless of what it meant; he didn't like it. The teen tightened his grip on the door handle slightly, trying to calm himself. He noted that his father's eyes were red and puffy, and that his nose was twitching ever so slightly, as he sniffled quietly.

He had been crying.

Sherman immediately opened his door, allowing Mr. Peabody to enter the room and hold his paws behind his back, looking down at the floor. Sherman thought of offering him a chair to sit in, but decided against it, taking a seat across from him on the bed, next to a now concerned Penny.

Sherman's eyes scanned his dishevelled father briefly, quickly trying to think of a way to begin the conversation. For better or worse, his thinking was cut off as Mr. Peabody began to speak.

"You despise me, don't you, Sherman?" Peabody sniffled, his gaze still focused onto the floor. "I pushed you too hard, expected too much from you. I put my own selfish goals above your own. You're right about me, I'm not a good father." Fresh tears pricked at his eyelids.

Sherman clenched his fists, feeling a deep sense of concern wash over him. "Where are the guests? Are they still here?"

Peabody shook his head slowly. "They've all left. I couldn't bear to have them see me like this."

"I don't hate you, dad." Sherman began, trembling lightly as his guilt mounted. "I'm sorry I spoke to you like that earlier, there's no excuse for it. You've done more for me than almost any other father on the planet could have possibly done. Every time I've made a mistake, you've been there to pull me out of it." He looked over to Penny, seeing her nod in encouragement to continue.

Sherman scratched the back of his head. "If I'm honest with myself, and you, I need to move out. I'll find a college somewhere; I'll study and find a job and my own home. With Penny."

Peabody nodded, raising his glazed eyes to meet his son's. "I only ever want the best for you. I understand that I've been… sheltering you lately. Sometimes it feels like only yesterday you were seven years old."

Sherman huffed humourlessly. "Trust me, I feel the same way." He tugged his lips into a thin smile, rubbing his hands together to calm his trembling. "But we both knew I wouldn't always be around. I'm getting older, and I need to start taking matters into my own hands. I guess that's why I've been so short with you lately, I want to do something that I can truly claim as my own one day."

Peabody wordlessly trotted over to the bed, climbing onto it and sitting next to Sherman. "All the things I have done over the past twelve years, were all for you. I'm not perfect, Sherman. As Tolstoy once said so elegantly, if you look for perfection-"

"You'll never be content, I know, Mr. Peabody." Sherman finished his sentence, having read the same book. A warm smile managed to paint its way across Peabody's weepy face.

"I had convinced myself somehow that, if I'd raise you to have the lifestyle that I'd always wanted, given you all the opportunities that I'd fought for as a pup, that you'd turn out better than myself. Though, I suppose it didn't quite go as planned." He chuckled solemnly. "I've always seen a part of myself in you, however presumptive that may sound. I'd be a fool to expect anything from you. It was my job to nurture and guide you, not to control you."

Sherman felt his own eyes start to well up. "So… is it true that you want me to take over your company?"

Peabody leapt onto his paws, pulling Sherman into a tight hug. "You don't have to do anything that you don't want to do. You're my son, I want you to be happy. If it is not your calling, then I hope you find it elsewhere, and that it is more fulfilling than you'd ever dreamed it would be."

Sherman squeezed Peabody back, nuzzling his face into the warm fur. "I promise I'll visit as often as I can."

"I know you will, Sherman. I know you will." Peabody rasped, patting his son on the back before breaking the hug.

The trio sat in quiet comfort, allowing themselves to calm down.

"I should probably go." Penny quietly offered, standing up from the bed, and heading for the door.

Mr. Peabody cleared his throat. "Penny, I was wondering if you could stay for a while longer? I have something in mind to raise the spirits. You may like to be involved."

Penny gave a confused glance in response. "That depends on what it is." She cautiously prompted him.

Sherman didn't need a response, immediately knowing what his father had in mind. "You didn't rebuild the WABAC, did you?" He asked through a grimace.

Mr. Peabody's face broke into a grin, earning a happy gasp from Penny, and a downtrodden expression from Sherman.

"We talked about this, Mr. Peabody!" He started to rant. "Last time we used it, I nearly ruined all of time and space! Are you seriously thinking of using it again?"

Mr. Peabody shrugged in an almost child-like fashion, continuing to grin at him. "Please, Sherman?" he reasoned. "For old time's sake? We could meet up with our old friends again! I'm sure Da Vinci, Gandhi, and Ben Franklin would all be delighted to see you grown up and ready for college!" He bounced slightly on the spot, his tail beginning to wag.

Noting that his father's sadness had seemingly melted away in place of excitement and nostalgia, Sherman caved, letting out a sigh. "Fine," He relented, "But only just this once, and then I'm done using the WABAC. And I'm only going to one time, and then I'm coming straight back."

Peabody's face fell somewhat at hearing Sherman's terms, but didn't protest. "Very well. Where did you have in mind?"

Sherman spoke without thinking. "Florence."

Peabody nodded in understanding. "Da Vinci. He'd be proud to see how you've turned out." He pushed himself off the bed, heading for the door. He turned around upon realising that Sherman and Penny were not following. "What's wrong?" He raised his brow.

"Mr. Peabody," Sherman began, "It's nearly eleven o'clock at night. And you're still a bit emotional. I think we should get some sleep before we leave." He folded his arms, asserting the kind of protective dominance he'd been used to receiving from his father.

Peabody noticed this and tried to contest it. But ultimately, he knew that his son was right. "Alright. We'll leave tomorrow at 10 AM sharp. Penny, if you're interested in coming along, I suggest you go home now and rest."

Penny looked from Peabody to Sherman, weighing up her options. Eventually, she nodded, standing up and walking past Peabody to leave the penthouse. "See you two tomorrow, then."

With Penny gone, Peabody turned back to his son. "I'm sorry to do this, Sherman. But our globe-trotting adventures through time were some of the best and proudest moments of my life. If I can have just one last hurrah with you by my side, I'd be forever grateful."

"It's okay dad, I understand." Sherman reassured him, feeling the tension in calling him 'dad' loosen further. "I missed it too. Get some sleep, and I promise you we'll have a good time tomorrow." He drew a genuine smile.

Offering one last smile, Peabody left the room, leaving the door ajar as his soft paw-steps could be heard pacing down the hall.

Sherman rubbed his face, pondering the conversation they'd just had. On one hand, he felt relieved that they had eased much of their tension in a heart-to-heart, but on the other he couldn't let the image of a sniffling, pensive Peabody drift from his mind. He could never recall another time his father had donned such a sorrowful expression. It was something he'd come to terms with long ago; that his father was not known as an expressive dog.

But what he'd seen tonight, it wasn't a pleasant sight. And he wasn't in a hurry to see it again any time soon.

But as he lowered himself into his freshly made bedsheets, Sherman pushed the thought out of his head, allowing the pleasant thought of sharing one last time-travelling adventure with his brilliant dog-dad take over his mind's eye. Sherman swore to himself that he'd go out of his way to make it a memorable experience for Mr. Peabody. For old time's sake.


	7. Chapter 7

Sherman blinked blearily, as his alarm chimed out. Blinking the sleep out of his eyes, he looked over to his alarm clock, which read 9 AM. He confusedly thought to himself, wondering why he'd set the alarm in the first place.

_Oh yeah, the WABAC_.

The teen stretched, climbing out of bed and walking into the main living space. Unsurprisingly, Mr. Peabody was already awake, in the kitchen washing dishes.

"Ah, you're finally awake!" The dog chimed, "I was beginning to think I'd have to roll back onto my old routine of waking you up every morning!"

Sherman huffed humourlessly. "I can wake myself up, thank you. And it's only nine o'clock, we have an hour still."

"I would prefer for us to get going as soon as possible. I'm a dog of punctuality." He smirked, plating up Sherman's breakfast. "With that said, you'd better eat before we leave. Time travel is hungry business."

"You love this, don't you?" The teen shook his head. "No surprises, okay? Just one little trip and that's all."

Peabody nodded with mock seriousness, placing the plate before his son. "No surprises."

"Eggs benedict, my favourite." Sherman smiled, picking up his fork. The canine returned a smile of his own.

"Today is a special occasion, after all." He added. "Penny should be here any minute, she called to say she'd join us."

"Mmph." Sherman affirmed through a mouthful of food, earning a look of disapproval from his father.

After breakfast had been finished, and Sherman had prepared for the day, the two sat in the lounge, waiting for Penny to arrive. Fifteen minutes later, she'd appeared behind the elevator doors, hefting a small backpack over her shoulder.

"Hey Penny" Sherman greeted. "What's with the bag?" He questioned.

"Well, I figured if we're going to be there for most of the day, we'd probably need some supplies." She shrugged.

Peabody nodded slowly. "That won't be necessary, Penny, the WABAC is fully equipped with emergency supplies. Flashlights, fire extinguishers, life preservers, a first-aid kit-"

"Snacks?" Penny interjected, receiving a head shake from the dog. "That's what I thought. I don't know about you two nerds, but I'm going to make the most of it. A picnic in the Italian countryside? Uh, yeah! Sign me up!"

Sherman sighed. "You haven't changed a bit."

After a few more friendly exchanges, the group took the elevator down into the basement, and into a vast room, a wide walkway leading to a big red door, where the WABAC resided.

"I forgot how huge this place was." Sherman remarked, Peabody nodding in agreement.

"I had a flair for the dramatic back in the day." He chuckled. Sherman rolled his eyes.

"Those days never ended, you're just as proud as ever." He retorted.

After the several minute trek to the big red door, the trio stepped onto the sliding platform that led to the time machine itself. With the light smoothly reflecting on its polished vermillion surface, it looked just as pristine as it had a decade ago.

Penny whistled. "You really fixed it up."

Mr. Peabody smiled toothily. "I took care when dismantling it, in the event of a day like this."

Sherman ignored the implication of that, as the door to the machine opened, letting them inside. The sight of colourful control panels, dates and times displayed on the dashboard, and the metallic chairs of the vehicle all evoked fond and not-so-fond memories within Sherman.

"You sure you haven't used the WABAC before today?" Sherman asked half-jokingly.

Mr. Peabody shook his head. "You can view the system's log if you wish, its last use dates back to 2014."

Sherman dropped himself into a seat. "It's okay, I believe you. So, Florence, 1508?"

The dog tapped away at the machine's interface. "1509, actually. I think it'd shock Leonardo too much to see us much older in such a short amount of time."

The teenager scoffed. "What difference does a year make, anyway."

With Mr. Peabody and Penny both taking their seats and buckling in, the WABAC whirred to life, like a sleeping giant awakening. It slowly lifted into the air, powering up and preparing to warp through time.

"I still want to know how this thing works." Penny questioned aloud. Peabody chuckled.

"Miss Peterson, that would take me all of time itself to explain."

With a flash, the room of mirrors vanished, being replaced by a brilliant blue light show of time itself bending to their will.

"This is why you need to travel early in the morning, there's less traffic." Penny quipped; a pair of eye rolls followed.

"I forgot how amazing it all looked." Sherman quietly muttered to himself. Peabody, whom had been sitting next to him piloting the WABAC, heard him thanks to his canine sense of hearing.

"It does harken back pleasant memories." He reminisced, tapping the arms of his chair with his dull claws mindlessly. "We made quite the team."

Sherman shrugged, continuing to look out into the passage of time. "Yeah, I guess we did."

Eventually, when the WABAC rematerialized, the swirling colours of the timestream was replaced by a grassy hillside in Italy. Florence, to be precise.

"Well? Come on, we mustn't keep him waiting!" Peabody excitedly called out, springing from his chair and quickly donning his renaissance-era clothing. The canine wasted no time in opening the WABAC's door, breaking into a run for the house atop the hill.

Sherman and Penny exchanged knowing glances, seeing Peabody so excited was not such a common sight nowadays, but they knew it well.

"You should probably chase after him." Penny smiled to Sherman, unbuckling her seat, and reaching for her backpack.

Sherman stretched his legs, feeling his bones crack quietly. "Yeah, I probably should. You can come too if you want."

Penny waved a dismissive hand. "Da Vinci is your friend; You should talk to him. I'll be right outside getting some sun. Maybe taking a selfie too."

Sherman shot a disapproving glance to her, but a returning grin told him that she had just said that to get a reaction from him. "Alright, just don't wander off. We're not staying for too long."

Stepping out of the WABAC, Sherman blinked as the sun shone directly into his eyes. New York had been overcast for the past several days, so the change of scenery was unexpected. Hastening his pace, he stood beside Peabody, whose tail had been wagging as he knocked on the door.

"I'm getting a sense of déjà vu right now." Sherman said aloud, Peabody nodding in agreement.

The door opened, revealing Leonardo Da Vinci himself.

"Ahhh! A-Peabody! What's-a bringing you back to my abode?" He jovially cried to the dog.

"Ahh, Da Vinci! It has been a long while since we last met!" Mr. Peabody's smile widened. "We have so much to talk about."

Da Vinci returned the smile, turning his head to Sherman. "And-a who is this young man?"

"That's my boy, Sherman." Peabody replied. Leonardo's face contorted into surprise.

"Sherman! You've sprouted like-a flower! How old are-a you?"

Sherman chuckled. "I'm eighteen now, Da Vinci."

"Eighteen! Why, when I-a last saw you, you were this-a tall!" He held a hand down to his waist to gesture a height that Sherman was sure was a generous over-estimation.

"Yes, they grow up faster than one would think." Peabody added wistfully. "But it has been an awfully long time since we last met."

"Yes! You must-a come in, tell me about-a yourselves." He gleefully chipped, opening the door further and stepping aside to let them in.

"Sherman completed his high school education just recently." Peabody noted as they entered.

Da Vinci nodded. "I do not know much about education in your time, but I-a will assume that is a very good thing! Well-a done, Sherman!"

Sherman smirked. "Grazie mille, Leonardo."

Da Vinci's smile widened. "Hai imparato l'italiano?"

Sherman waved his hand in a so-so motion. "I'm still learning, I'm getting help from a friend back home."

Peabody tilted his head slightly. "You haven't learned it from me."

"My hairdresser is Italian." Sherman shrugged, Peabody nodding in understanding.

The room quietened, the Italian polymath stood idly, thinking to himself briefly, before shaking his head of any other thought that ran through his mind. "We have a-so much to discuss! You must a-join me for lunch!"

Sherman pointed a thumb over his shoulder. "Penny is here too; She's having a picnic or something."

"Ah! She can a-join us too!"

It wasn't long before the group reformed around a table, a small banquet of Italian cuisine laid before them. As they ate, they discussed a myriad of subjects ranging from Sherman's education, Peabody's various accomplishments and everything Da Vinci had done in the time since their last visit. Naturally, as over a decade had passed for Sherman, Peabody and Penny, whereas only a mere year had come and gone for the Italian, he'd spent most of his time listening, only interrupting to ask the occasional question. Eventually, they'd finished eating and their conversation slowed in pace.

"If it wouldn't trouble you too much, I would love to see what you've been working on as of late." Peabody folded his paws on the table, trying to hide his giddiness. It had always excited him to meet with a brilliant mind alike his own.

"You just-a cannot control your curiosity, a-Peabody! Why-a don't we all step into my workshop?" The inventor offered.

Sherman briefly glanced over at Penny, who looked to him in return. "Uh, actually, if it's all the same to you, Penny and I wanted to go for a walk, through town."

The canine scrunched his muzzle briefly in thought. "I'm not sure if that is a good idea…"

Da Vinci, however, didn't seem to mind. "Let them a-go, Hector. They are old enough to a-make their own choices."

Without waiting for Peabody to rebuke that, the two teens got up from the table and walked outside.

The sun shone low in the sky, the afternoon setting over Florence. Penny and Sherman walked lazily through the beautiful city market, passing through crowds of blissfully unaware citizens of a bygone era.

"I wonder what life was like, back then. It seems more peaceful, quieter." Penny mused aloud. Sherman rolled his eyes.

"I mean, yeah, I guess so. Weird that you're talking in the present and past tense." He stopped to look at a fruit stand.

"Well, how do you look at it?" Penny questioned.

"I just think of it as the present. We're here now, so this is the present. At least for us." He shrugged.

Penny nodded slowly. "But then are we bringing these people all back to life by revisiting them? Where do they go when we're not here?"

"Where is all of this coming from? You're talking like my dad." Sherman raised a brow.

She laughed, propping herself against him for a moment. "I guess I am. It's just an interesting thought. If all of time happens at once, what makes one time more important than another?"

"Nothing. Everyone has their time, and then they die. Make the most of it while you can. Can we talk about something else?" Sherman nonchalantly tried to change the subject, but Penny wouldn't relent.

"Why don't you tell that to Mr. Peabody then?" She stated bluntly, causing Sherman to stop walking.

"You're going to have to elaborate on that." Sherman bitterly snipped.

"So you want to move out, get on with your life and be with me. Is that more important to you than anything else?" She added. Sherman nodded. "Good, then tell him that."

He didn't know how to counter that, and he wasn't entirely sure if he wanted to in earnest. So instead, they continued to stroll through the market, buying a few trinkets with a small bag of coins that Sherman had held on to in his room from his last venture to Italy. While Peabody had a strict code in the past about bringing souvenirs home, Sherman shrugged it off, determining that the rule had been null and void after years of no time travelling.

Besides, what he didn't know wouldn't hurt him.

Meanwhile, in Da Vinci's workshop, Peabody excitedly bounced on the pads of his paws, eyeing off several blueprints and prototype inventions that the brilliant inventor had concocted since his last visit.

"Is that what I think it is?" The canine eagerly pointed to a contraption in the back corner of the room.

"The Viola Organista! I was a-working on it last time you saw me. But I a-make a few adjustments." He proudly stated, following the dog around the loft.

The beagle's eyes shone as he looked over the mess of blueprints that lay strewn across a nearby desk, detailing numerous inventions that would later become staples of the modern world.

"You are truly a visionary, my friend." Peabody praised the polymath dearly, his smile unwavering.

"I am a-very honoured to hear such a thing from a genius like-a yourself!" He returned, peeling a smile in return. "And a-your son?"

Peabody's smile faltered. "To tell the truth, I don't know. He wants to leave New York with Penny."

"But a-you see, that is what children do! They-a grow up and a-make their own way!"

"Yes, I suppose they do." He sighed, idly scratching his left ear. "If only time weren't so cruel."

Da Vinci nodded in understanding. "She is-a cruel mistress. But you must-a let him spend his time where it-a counts!"

Peabody nodded slowly, taking in the advice. Interpreting it. Leonardo studied his facial expression, not entirely confident that it had been taken the right way.

The pair of them were interrupted as Sherman and Penny pushed through the doors of the chateau.

"There you two are. I was starting to wonder where you went." Peabody spoke in a somewhat chastising tone. Sherman shrugged it off.

"It wasn't that long. It's not dark out yet." He reasoned. Peabody gave a half nod in acceptance.

"We should probably get going anyway," He continued, "thank you for being so accommodating, Da Vinci!"

The Italian inventor chuckled. "You-a use big words that I do not understand, Sherman! My English is not-a that perfect!"

"Sorry, thank you for letting us visit." He stated more simply.

The three exchanged goodbyes with Da Vinci, Peabody taking the longest amount of time of the three as he would fall into tangential topics of discussion throughout his farewell. Sherman knew that this was a tactic to stay longer though, and stayed quiet, patiently waiting for him to finish.

After what felt like half an hour to Sherman, they were finally stepping into the WABAC, just in time to see the sun mingle with the ocean over the horizon. The countryside had a certain beauty in the orange glow of the evening, and he didn't mind being able to stick around to see it.

"That was certainly worth taking some time out of our day." Peabody proudly proclaimed, mostly to himself. Sherman and Penny nodded in agreement anyway.

"We were here for the whole day, but I get what you mean." Penny responded, causing Peabody's eyebrows to furrow.

"Oh, you're indeed right, it is nearly six o' clock. Time flies I suppose."

Sherman hummed knowingly. "It's alright, we all had a good time."

"We could just go back to the minute after we left, couldn't we?" Penny questioned. Peabody and Sherman collectively shook their heads, before looking to one another to non-verbally ask who would explain why.

"We could, but then you would experience a 'temporal jet-lag' of sorts. It's no different to taking a flight from one country to another. Best to just arrive in the present at the same time as we left." Peabody explained, his voice dipping into its trademark 'know-it-all' tone.

A white paw hesitated over the time travel button, before pressing down and sending the WABAC back into the colourful abyss of the timestream.

Sherman let out a content sigh, feeling satisfied with his final time travel adventure. He'd had the opportunity to meet with one of his childhood heroes one last time, and above all else he was pleased to see Peabody every bit as chipper as he once was.

However, something was amiss.

While Sherman sat peacefully leaning back in his chair, he looked over to Mr. Peabody. The white beagle had a tight expression on his face, his paws folded over his lap and his eyes scanning the WABAC's control panel; Almost as if he had never seen it before. Sherman knew that look. it was a look of conflict.

Once the machine had come to a halt back in the basement of the penthouse, Penny quickly rose from her seat, slinging her backpack over her shoulder, an assortment of trinkets and souvenirs jangling quietly inside.

"Thanks for inviting me along, Mr. Peabody. I should probably get going, my parents will be wondering where I've been."

Sherman flashed her a smile. "I'll see you tomorrow, I guess. Bye."

Penny's eyes flickered between the dog and the other teen, figuring that something was wrong. Deciding that they'd need to speak privately, she stepped out of the WABAC, heading for the elevator. She knew her way in and out of the building after years of impromptu visits.

"Okay," Sherman started, sliding his chair over next to Peabody, "Something's bothering you again. What is it?"

Peabody huffed, a weak smile appearing for a brief second before falling away. "Are you tired of me?"

"What? No!" Sherman's voice immediately switched to an urgent tone. "Why are you being so weird lately?"

Peabody sniffed quietly, his eyes beginning to glaze over again. "You're right, it's silly. I shouldn't be thinking that."

At first, it felt like the conversation had reached its conclusion, but an invisible force held the two sitting in their chairs, the hum of the WABAC drowning out the loud silence.

Peabody was the first to break the silence.

"Why do you think I invented the WABAC, Sherman?" He abruptly questioned, giving Sherman a gentle start.

The teen thought for a moment. "Uh… I guess you like history. You wanted me to see the world, learn, and meet some of the greatest people to have ever lived?" He shrugged, knowing that it was a vague answer at best.

Peabody shook his head, his floppy ears swinging freely. "I wanted to give you running room."

Sherman folded his arms, his eyes looking to the floor thoughtfully. "What does that mean?"

Peabody sighed. "When I first adopted you, it felt like the entire world had something to say about it. Newspapers, internet journalists, celebrities, people I'd meet on the street; All of them thought I was crazy for wanting to have a son of my own. Even my most trusted colleagues, the closest thing I'd had to friends for a very long time were trying their best to plant a seed of doubt in me. For a time… it felt like you were all I had."

Sherman blinked, his mouth staying firmly shut, wanting to hear more.

"I quickly realised that, if the weight of the world on my shoulders would be too much to bear, I couldn't stand to see you go through the same treatment. And so, I invented the WABAC. My escape. And for a time, it worked wonders. Stresses of work, parenting, and being in the public eye all gone for just a few hours a week. I'd go where I wanted to go, be who I wanted to be. To think there'd be a place where no one knew who I was, it was liberating. I'd get to do what I loved the most, and you'd be there to share it with me."

Sherman inhaled a shallow breath. "You gave me running room."

Peabody nodded. "Never for one second did I regret bringing you into my life. For a time, I even considered home schooling you. I was selfish, I wanted to keep you to myself, without even sparing a thought for what you'd want. On that day, when I'd been contacted by the principal, only to be told that you'd potentially be taken away from me, I had never been so terrified in my life."

"I'm sorry I had to put you through that, Mr. Peabody…" Sherman clenched his fists, feeling a wave of sorrow build inside him.

"I'm glad it happened, Sherman." Peabody immediately replied, confusing Sherman. "It's what finally taught me to be what I fought for in court. It taught me to be your father."

Sherman didn't know what to say to that, shifting in his seat.

"I think it goes without saying that there are a lot of expectations of me, Sherman. I am the only one of my kind. A lot of people rely on me, the world around looks to me to be the perfect person they think I am, and a perfect person I am not. And it was foolish of me to pass such lofty expectations upon my own son. The thought of losing you was weighing on my mind for the longest of times."

"It's all water under the bridge, Mr. Peabody." Sherman reassured him. "I just need to start living my own life. And I promise I'll come and visit you often."

Another slice of silence.

"…I've been thinking, and… For many years I'd decided that the last time I'd ever use the WABAC would be a one-way trip." Peabody slowly drawled, sliding a paw over the polished surface of the control panel. "Foolish as it may be, I'd always imagined that you'd be with me when that day would come."

The air became tense.

"…I'm sorry, Mr. Peabody…" Sherman sadly murmured. "But I'm happy where I am. I have Penny, and a future ahead of me. I am happy, and it's all thanks to you."

Peabody tapped a claw to the panel mindlessly. "I understand. I knew a time would come where we'd part ways. I'd be a fool to try and tie you down."

"You don't tie me down, dad." Sherman sadly reassured him. "I'll always be here for you, either physically or in spirit."

Peabody finally cracked a genuine smile of appreciation. "That is the best gift any father could receive. Thank you."

Sherman smiled brilliantly, feeling pride in knowing just what to say in that moment.

"…I won't be leaving just yet, however. I still need to find a new CEO for Peabody Industries, and it seems that you're off the list." Peabody chuckled.

Sherman grinned. "Don't worry, we'll work through it together. Take it one day at a time."

Feeling a great weight being lifted, the dog and his boy sat pensively, each listening to the other's steady breathing. After a few minutes, Sherman excused himself, heading up into the penthouse. Peabody opted to stay in the WABAC for just a few minutes more.

Once Sherman had made it to his bedroom back in the penthouse, he closed the door slowly, standing over to his window and looking out to the vast skyline of Manhattan, seeing his reflection in the glass. At the base of his hair, he spotted traces of his natural ginger colour showing through. For once in a long time, he didn't feel like dying it out.

But that wasn't on his mind.

It all made sense now. The WABAC wasn't just a way back. It was a way out.

Sherman would eventually emerge from his bedroom, have dinner, and discuss his day in Florence just as he used to as a child, but for a few minutes all he could do was look out into the hustle and bustle of the people below and ponder the end of an era.

He took comfort in knowing that one day, they'd both get what they wanted.

And when that day would come, he would be ready.


End file.
